


Bind Me

by azure7539, LauraRose



Series: Take your heart into my hands [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-SPECTRE, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Spoilers for SPECTRE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6387439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure7539/pseuds/azure7539, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraRose/pseuds/LauraRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Continuation of Shatter Me:]</p><p>It is time to pick up the pieces and move forward. But how often can Q slip out of Check without getting trapped in Checkmate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for those who have helped me though one of the hardest times of my life, and have seen me though the other side of it.
> 
> For those who helped me to find the floor. I thank you.
> 
> For those who stayed up till three am with me. I thank you.
> 
> For those who got up at three am to be with me. I thank you.
> 
> And of course, my wonderful co-writer who gave me an outlet, and kept my mind busy. I thank you.
> 
> You watched me bleed, and stayed by my side and helped pick me up over and over and now that I'm running again, you still have my back. I've found some incredible friends. 
> 
> Thank you. With all my heart.
> 
> — _From LauraRose_
> 
> Thanks to xphil98197 and Boffin1710 for trawling through our rabble, editing, and encouraging us.

The machine flat lined.

 

The flat line rang in his mind like a nail hammering into the lid of a coffin. Q was seriously feeling quite lightheaded and unsteady on his feet... when the monitor came. His head snapped up, staring at the indicator, figure in the bed, his knees finally hitting the floor. He stared at the figure on the bed.

 

There was something wrong with this picture.

 

“See,” said Alec's drawling voice, and Q jumped, “I'm no doctor… but I'm pretty sure the definition of dying involves stopping breathing? I may have missed something here… but James is definitely breathing.”

 

Q looked up, eyes wide as they watched the steady rise and fall and the bare chest as the doctor, the one who had condemned James, reattached the monitor that had not been turned off.

 

The room was silent as if holding his breath.

 

_ Beep... Beep... Beep... _

 

"Good God," whispered the doctor. 

 

Alec was grinning like fool. "Live to die another day, James," he said, laughingly. 

 

Q felt his lips stretch into a smile. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me… I knew you couldn’t…” he raised James hand and kissed the fingers lightly. 

 

But the dazed, drained smile on his lips morphed and hardened into something else when he noticed the presence of the people that were still there, standing with their eyes wide in disbelief still at the miraculous turn of even that had just taken place. 

 

"Leave," he muttered in quiet vehemence. In his eyes, they were the ones who had literally chosen death for James without letting him even have a say in it. And oh, had he begged for mercy. "Now."

 

They did, all accept for Alec who was regarding Q with an open expression of interest. "Mind if I stick around for a while?" He drawled, pulling out a chair and sitting.

 

"Yes, actually," Q replied immediately, his eyes briefly and quickly sizing this stranger up, filing his mannerism, demeanor, language, and expression away into some tired corner for him to poke at later. "I don't know who you are, and I see no reason why you should even be here at all."

 

"Alec Trevelyan," he said, cocking his head. "The old 006... The one who is listed as a murderous, traitor and who has been behind enemy lines for ten years," he pointed at Bond. "Known him since he was ten."

 

Q looked decidedly unimpressed, if not verging on scepticism now. "And you're back  _ now _ , after deceiving him for all these years, because you heard he was finally found but had brain damage and that the doctors and M decided for themselves they were going to pull his plug?" He nearly spat the words out with narrowed eyes and a twisted, bitter scoff that lasted about two seconds. "Kindly leave," he said, nodding at the way out.

 

He shrugged. "Bond knew where I was. I crash at his once in awhile ," he glanced at Bond and for a moment, there was true affection in his eyes. True brotherly love, but it was there. The expression he had said that he would be having words with Q... But not right now.

 

Alec sighed. "Get into bed beside him, kid. I’ll pull the bed bar up."

 

Q could see it, the caring and affection. But then again, Moneypenny, Tanner, and fucking M were supposed to be caring for James, too, and here they were, pulling the man off life support without even considering Q's opinion. 

 

_ Bitter. Bitter. Bitter. _

 

So, really, he didn't feel up to trusting anyone anymore, save for James, but he did frown at the suggestion anyway, very much wanting to do exactly just that and feeling mistrustful at the same time. That, and this man calling him “kid” even though he certainly wasn't one didn't quite help. But he stared at this Alec Trevelyan, former 006, for a long while, trying to assess whether he was worth trusting or not, before toeing off his shoes. 

 

"Make sure no one touches him but the regular doctors and nurses," he muttered, rubbing his face and fitting his small frame into the space right by James's side, sighing and shivering at the familiar warmth and heartbeat that were only slightly off from their usual tensity. "Thank you," Q added, almost like an afterthought. 

 

Hesitantly, he put a light arm around James and closed his itching, once again swimming, eyes. 

 

The bar was pulled up behind him, clicking into place with a metallic sound. "Go to sleep, kid," Alec said and stepped out, closing the door. There was a scrape of a chair and the ex agent plonked on it.

 

After a while of whispering and carrying on nearly a monologue to James, crying all the while, Q brought himself into an exhausted delirium and finally slipped away before he even knew it. 

 

* * *

A week passed. Then Two. 

 

He did not stir, but there were signs. Brain scans showed… activity. It was weak, but there were signs that there could be hope… Q should not expect miracles, because the likelihood of James waking up was very little… but there was hope.

 

Two weeks and four days later, Alec stalked in the room. He had been asked by M to get Q to go home for a few hours. He walked in to find Q asleep, leaning forward, one arm sling over James stomach. Alec’s gaze traveled up to James’s face… and blue eyes met his. 

 

“Fuck…” Alec breathed, and stepped forward to put a hand on Q’s shoulder, shaking him awake gently. 

 

James lips formed into a word. William.

 

“Q… he’s awake… he’s asking for you…”

 

Q was already hauling himself up once more, using every bit of strength he had to hold himself together and hold onto James as well, air escaping from him in short gasps. "I'm here, James," he whimpered, "I'm right here." When those eyes opened, his grip on the man was probably enough to bruise.

 

Blue eyes landed on William and slid in and out of focus. "William..." He said again and again and again... Then something else. His face furrowed into a frown. "Headache."

 

William let out a wet, surprised laugh, the first one he had genuinely cracked for the first time in what felt like a lifetime ago. "You don't say..." But he was sobbing for real now, the tears falling in uncontrollable trickles as he cupped the man's cheeks with trembling hands. "God... you're back... you're really back..." And he leaned his forehead against James's own, lips pursing tightly.

 

He winced but it melted into a smile and he let a yawn out. "Need to sleep now... Don't go far..." And with that, James was snoring.

 

Q pulled back and shook his head. "I won't be going anywhere," he promised, once again taking James's hand. Alec handed him a tissue, and Q wept.

 

* * *

 

James awoke with a grunt and for a long and terrifying moment, thought he was back in the chair. Panic swept through him because he could not move. Not at all. A whimper, a painful, pathetic sound left his lips.

 

Q was instantly awake with a sharp intake of breath. "James," he whispered, immediately latching onto the man. The feeling of this all being just some figment of his imagination created by an overactive and drained mind chased his senses, too, but he ignored it for now and continued stroking his lover's cheek. "James, love, you're okay. You're safe now. I'm here," he said soothingly, reassuring. 

 

If they were actually just a dream somehow, please, never let him wake up, was the other singular thought that circled round and round in his mind.

 

"Hurts..." he mumbled. "Every-thing... hurts..." 

 

"I know, love, I know..." he whispered in a pained voice, smoothing his thumb over James's cheekbone. "You just woke up from a coma..." His words faltered just for the slightest bit. "It's going to be all right."

 

"Where am I?" he asked after a moment, unfocused gaze wandering around the room.

 

"Private hospital room..." Q whispered, wiping at the stickiness in his eyes. "Rescue came..."

 

"Ah..." he said softly and closed his eyes. "Love... I can't move..." 

 

"It's prolonged inactivity, James," Q whispered. "And other injuries... at least they said you were going to heal physically." He leaned down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to James's lips. "I'll call in the doctors then?"

 

"Don't..." he said and the grip around Q tightened. It seemed involuntary. "No... Not yet...."

 

"Shh..." Q hushed wrapping his thin arms around James, too, although he didn't, couldn't, hold the man as close or tight as he wanted to, not wanting to hurt James more. "I won't, I won't... Don't worry..."

 

"I need to get out of this bed," James said, restless, and then his eyes slid out of focus as the room spun. 

 

"No, no..." Q was on the alert... or more so than before. He was always restless these days. "I can help you sit up for a bit, but you're in no condition to leave this bed, James."

 

He scowled and glared at himself. "Fine... Water?"

 

"Right. Right, water. I'll get you water," Q mumbled almost to himself and straightened up quickly, nearly knocking himself to the floor with the bed bars. But he managed to steady himself on his feet soon enough and went for the flask of water on the bedside table, pouring James a cup and bringing it to the man's lips.

 

James took a tentative sip and swallowed... And then another. "My mouth tastes like a sewer," he complained bitterly.

 

"I suppose it should, considering that you haven't done much of anything for the last two months ..." He whispered, kissing James's forehead. That, and having a tube shoved down his throat. "It'll get better," he promised quietly. "More?" he asked about the water.

 

"Have you shaved in the last two months?" James shot back as he took another sip.

 

Q let out a weak, breathy laugh. "Tried to, but I gave up after I nicked myself for the fourth time." He watched as James took another sip, basking in the man's hoarse, tired, but definitely there voice, letting the syllables wrapped around him like a security blanket as he bit on his lip.

 

James shuddered, muscles twitching as nerves began to wake up. "What happened?" 

 

Noting to himself that he should try picking up the razor again, Q pulled away for a bit and set down the glass. "Oh... uhm... You fell unconscious when rescue came." Everything remained in stark light and sound in his mind, everything from the drilling to the screaming, to the fighting and shooting, then James's dead weight on his shoulders. 

 

He swallowed, frowning just a bit. "They took you to St. Thomas’ where they treated and monitored you until your condition stabilized... then..."  _ They refused to let me stay with you, _ "we transferred you here into a private room in MI6..."

 

"Are you okay?" James asked quietly.

 

"Am I—" Oh. Q nodded quickly. "Yes, yes... I'm fine. I'm okay. Fine." Other than the fact that they kept telling him that he needed to go into Psych, which was a ridiculous notion in and of itself. "Of course."

 

James smiled faintly as his eyes closed. "Liar..." He accused, tired. "Nightmares?"

 

Too many to count, even if he didn't sleep much anymore. Or eat. But that was besides the point. Q didn't answer that and refrained from kissing James again, until he shaved, and settled for holding the man's hand between his tightly. "I'm just... extremely glad that you finally woke up again," he whispered with a small smile himself.

 

James nodded slowly. "And I'm going to get out of here sooner rather than later..." He said stubbornly. Determined.

 

He would go home now if he thought that they would let him.

 

"I know you are," Q replied, squeezing James's hand. His therapist wouldn't be happy about this, his 'overexerting' his hands and everything, but he didn't really give a damn, especially James had just survived what was essentially a death sentence masked as sodding euthanasia. Fuck, he wasn't kidding when he said he could hold a grudge for a long time. Q didn't think he was going to get over this for a long time to come.

 

He shuddered involuntarily, touching warm skin that should've been cold otherwise if James hadn't emerged back to life when the machine was stopped. "I love you," he said it again, no longer keeping track of how many times he had said this before. "I love you." Q cursed at himself when the tears welled up again. He cried so much these days it was almost embarrassing. Almost. "I love you."

 

"Hey..." He said quietly, and cursed when his body stubbornly refused to respond. "No tears... It's okay…” He whispered.

 

Q swallowed, taking in deep breaths to calm himself down and shakily, but harshly, scrub away the tears. Not in front of James, and certainly when the man had just told him that there should be no tears. "Do you want to sit up for a bit?" he asked thickly once that was done, smiling something that he hoped wasn't lopsided at the man.

 

"Might as well, it’s not like the view is too good from this angle," he said with a sigh.

 

"Okay," Q whispered. "Okay, hold on just for a bit." He began adjusting the height of the bed where James's torso was and elevated it higher before reaching over to his cot to grab his pillow, helping the man lean forward so he could insert it behind his back along with the one he already had. "Easy..." he muttered, steadying James down. "There... Better?"

 

James had instantly tensed up with the pain and the feeling like his skull was cracked and groaned as he was set back.

 

"James?" Q's hands were on both of his shoulders at once, looking just that bit verging too near the blurred separation between concern and panic. "Are you okay? Do you want me to set you down again?" There was a niggling in the back of his mind... like the sliver opening of the Pandora box from which oozed darkness and devastation... that if he hadn't managed to cause James his life before, there was a chance he might accomplish it this time out of sheer incompetence and helplessness.

 

James shook his head. "No, no... It's fine..." He sucked in a deep slow breath. "I'm fine."

 

Q smoothed his hands soothingly down James's arms, giving it a bit of a squeeze, and nodded, keeping a careful watch out so he could call for the doctors. "Don't push yourself too much," he whispered finally. "Keep in mind you just woke up from a coma."

 

"I need to push or they keep you in these places," he said in a hushed voice as if this was a conspiracy.

 

"They'll only keep you for as long as it is necessary, love," Q replied in an equally hushed voice himself. "I'll make sure of that." He said so, and while he didn't know how he was going to deliver that (because Q was rather sure his position as Q would probably be gone in the near future one way or another), he was still going to do it no matter what.

 

He sighed and nodded. "I suppose we should call the doctors and let them come and prod me until they realise that it’s a monumentally bad idea..." 

 

Q stroked James's hand softly with a quiet nod. "Okay. I'll be here the whole while. Don't worry." He stood up then went over to the door, opening it and finding that the man from before—Alec Trevelyan, supposedly former 006—was still sitting there. 

 

"Oh," Q breathed with one arched eyebrow as though he was just remembering this, which was the actual case because the thought of this man hadn't even crossed his mind until now. "You're still here."

 

Alec arched an eyebrow, his smirk relaxed. "So it would apparently appear... Unless of course, I am not me, and you’re talking to some weirdo."

 

"Right," Q replied softly, stretching the word out, his guard just minutely releasing around the man. "I'm not sure about that weirdo part though," he muttered this under his breath before clearing his throat, eyes darting around, on edge... suddenly feeling rather cagey. "James's awake,” Alec raised an eyebrow and Q remembered that he was the one who has seen James awake first. Blushing furiously, he went on, “ I'll call the doctors... You can... I don't know... stay here or go talk to him."

 

Alec didn't answer, the moment that he said the phrase James is awake, he was pushing past Q to the door and it clicked shut.

 

Q stared at the closed door, feeling claustrophobic in his own skin as he stood there, shifting his weight on his two feet. After a few seconds of flexing his hands, debating whether or not he should be letting this happen or not, he quickly walked away with consecutive long strides and called the doctors outside in the Medical staff's office to come and have a check on James.

 

The doctor looked as if he wanted to laugh at Q for a moment. The coma patient being awake was almost ridiculous... But one look at Q's face and he scurried after him.

 

Q glared, hating this and memorizing the sod's face with a clear I'm-going-to-fuck-you-over-for-this look (because he really did not feel like spending more unnecessary time away from James at that moment, for reasons, if he could help it), right before the one who  _ had _ actually been there to perform the euthanasia and witnessed everything emerged and immediately followed him. They hurried back to the private room because he didn't know for sure whether it had been a good idea to leave James there with that Alec man or not.

 

When he got back, there was laughter ringing from the room, a natural if slightly tense laughter from the two men there.

 

There was a strange rush of feeling when Q raised his hand hesitantly to knock, listening to that rich, ringing laughter that was coming from inside, like he was intruding on a moment or something. 

 

Like the bubble that wrapped itself around just them two was finally bursting. 

 

"Sorry to interrupt," he said softly as he pushed the door to peer in, smiling a little when his eyes found James.

 

The doctor came over and Alec stepped out, and the doctor gestured that Q should go too.

 

Q maintained his ground and shot the doctor a pointed look, arms crossed abrasively before his chest. "I don't see any reason why I shouldn't be here, Dr. O'Connor."

 

"He stays," James said in that slow, dangerous voice that held no room for argument.

 

O'Connor, a man with self-preservation, knew that he shouldn't mess with MI6's supposed Quartermaster and a Double-Oh— _ the _ infamous Double-Oh Seven for the merits of it all, even—whether or not they still technically held their positions. Especially when one could erase your credentials and wipe you essentially off the face of the earth, while the other could take care of the actual, literally side of that. Not that he was new with dealing with shits from stubborn, obstinate agents, but considering the ordeal they had been through, floating rumors as well as what had just happened a few weeks ago with him turning off the life support... O'Connor supposed he could relent.

 

Therefore, he refrained from rolling his eyes with a sigh, and silently got to work with Q coming to stand by the bed, his presence ominously unobtrusive as it had been since the first day he had been brought back here with a comatose Bond in tow.

 

James was surprisingly cooperative, watching the Doctor and trying not to snap. He made the effort and tried not to sigh impatiently as the doctor ordered tests and scans and medication and psychological evaluations.

 

The doctor ordered certain imperative scans that must be done right then to presently reassess the damages to James's brain and see if there were any other problems that they must absolutely address other than physical rehabilitation to get his muscles functioning properly again. Q stood there and wordlessly listened to all the medical terms, cold hand holding onto James's own even as his face only betrayed a ripple of the turmoil that was currently raging under his skin.

 

James was silent in the room, ignoring the doctor because he knew that if he paid too much attention... He focused on his hand.

 

Numb. Cold...

 

Wiggle it.

 

Wiggle...

 

Move...

 

Move your fingers, you useless piece of...

 

"Oh, will you just fuck off?" Bond snarled.

 

Both the doctor and Q were startled by the sudden snarl from James.

 

_ He's not talking about you. _ Q thought to himself, settling down the nervous twitching of his fingers. 

 

"Would you give us a moment, Doctor?" he turned and asked O'Connor, who nodded and quickly stepped out. Then, he focused his attention back onto his lover. "What's wrong, James?"

 

"Just leave me alone. All of you," spat James.

 

Q dropped James's hand like he had been burnt. The words hit him like he'd been slapped, hard. "You don't mean that," he said quietly.

 

"Get out!" He roared.

 

Q couldn't but flinch visibly. It was like almost like they were back in that hotel in Venice again, the loud sound of James's roar bouncing inside the enclosed space. Only, they were inside MI6 now, after being kidnapped twice. 

 

" _ You  _ don't get to tell  _ me _ to get out, James!" he shouted back, the coil that had been reeling inside his body snapping. "YOU DON'T!" 

 

His chest heaved in spluttered breaths as he stared blankly back at the man on the bed, lashing out in his hurt. "You don't," he repeated, a whisper this time.

 

James looked away. "Alec, get him out of here," James growled as the agent came in.

 

Q glared daggers at the man that had just come in. "No, you stay there!" he snapped at Alec and rounded back onto James. "You're not getting rid of me out of some misguided self-pity or anger at your current condition, James Bond," he growled, voice low and all vehemence he could scramble up right then. "I'm staying exactly where I am until you're strong enough to get out of that bed and throw me out on your own. Do you hear me?"

 

Alec came around to Q, and did the task that James asked of him by the simple fact of lifting Q up over his shoulder and out the room in a fireman's carry.

 

Q let out a frustrated cry as he struggled on Alec's shoulder, not even caring that this was bloody Medical or not anymore. Fuck these agents who could lift people up as though they weighed nothing.

 

"Normally I would agree with you... But I know what the bastard is like. Give him time," Alec says. "This is his normal. Shove everyone away. Like clockwork."

 

The moment he was set down, Q was already quickly trying to push back the blonde to slip back into the room. "What? Then am I supposed to let him act like this? Shoving  _ me _ away, too? He was always there, then why can't I do the same? Does this mean I'm a lesser man than he is or something?!"

 

Alec caught his wrist. "Come on. You both need to cool off," and he was walking again, one arm still clamped around his wrist. Q was going too, whether Q liked it or not. "It’s a pride thing, but you have to remember that pissing off one of the most dangerous men in the world when he cannot move a muscle below his neck... That's just stupid. Not to mention that he would probably sulk even more if the thing that got him moving was breaking your neck. Where does one go to get some decent coffee around here?"

 

Q was yanking his wrist back to no avail. "If that gives him the proper motivation then why don't you just let me have a go, hmm? Let him try and break my fucking neck!" he replied waspishly, anger and frustration and so many other things were thrumming in his veins, rendering him lightheaded. This was just one thing too many: people trying to pull the plug on James, James going flat line, James waking back up, and now James bloody sending him away like an errant child. 

 

James, James, James.

 

"I don't know," he snapped. "Let go of me. I don't drink coffee, I wouldn't know!" His ears were ringing, vision blurry; the light was shining a bit too brightly and piercingly overhead, and Q swallowed, his bandaged, feeble fingers were still trying to pry Alec's vice-like grip off.

 

Alec moved suddenly, fast and shoved Q against the wall, twisting his arm up behind his back. He was brutally fast, and he lacked the finesse that James had when he threatened people.

 

"My best friend is in a hospital bed after someone drilling into his brain and I have to deal with a child throwing his weight around because he cannot play with the big boys. You wanna help him? Go and get a cup of tea or whatever you drink, then go for a walk. An hour. Two tops. Then go and see him. I've known him longer than you've had spots. He needs to calm down, and so do you."

 

Q let out a hiss. It hurt, both the twisting of his arms and how he had been harshly shoved back against the wall. He listened to Alec, the words like bitter poison sweeping through his senses, before he let out a laugh. 

 

"I was there to  _ listen _ to your bloody best friend screaming while having his brain penetrated with drills for three days before suffering his almost not recognizing who I was. So don't tell me whether or not I can play with so-called big boys—" He spat the phrase out, "—who only know how to use their physical power to get what they want."

 

He gritted his teeth and quietly ground out, "Now, let go of me, you oaf. And don't worry. I'm not trying to come back in there anymore."

 

The words didn't ruffle Alec but when he lowered his voice, it was dangerous words. "I had to know where he was and not be able to do a damn thing or risk blowing ten years of work... And come back to find James in love..." He shook his head. "I don't know what spell you have him under... But you have him good."

 

Q said nothing about the long-story-short that Alec had just told him and just pushed the agent away instead once the hold on him loosened, rubbing his wrists. "Yeah, I put him under a spell," he muttered. "Because people like you and him shouldn't fall for people like  _ me  _ or something like that, isn't it?" He gestured at himself with a flourish. "I've heard enough of those recently already." He smiled sweetly before turning sharply away. "And don't think you can just shove me to a wall like that again, Mr. Trevelyan. I'm still MI6's quartermaster."

 

Almost. Not really. But still, did it matter right then? He just bloody needed some sort of threat. Just so he wouldn’t feel this fucking vulnerability anymore.

 

He closed the door on his way out, it falling shut with a soft click.

 

Alec let him go, because it was true that they both needed to chill out and calm down... Rubbing his eyes, he stalked back to medical and into James room. "You. We need to talk..." He growled.


	2. Chapter 2

Q retreated into the far corner of his mind and stayed there as he went through the motion of steering his body to do as he willed it to. He quieted all chaotic voices down as he drove back to the supermarket near his apartment, shopped, and headed home. It didn't take long to shower, make soup, put it into a container, and pack that away with a thermos flask full of tea. It was all very technical, and as long as it was technical and procedural, it was easy to accomplish in his mind.

Everything felt numb right then, and the only thing he focused on was the sound of his own breathing as Q made another trip back to Six.

It was then that Eve called him. "Q..." She asked brightly. "Lunch?"

He stared at her, blinking for two seconds, before frowning as though finally coming back to his senses. "No, thank you," he murmured.

"What's wrong? I thought that you would be over the moon. He is alive and conscious... That's more than we dared hope for."

Q fixed his glasses. "I was, still am." His lips thinned as he stared somewhere not quite the floor to Moneypenny's left. "Until he had Trevelyan chuck me out the door."

Eve softened. She went to the kettle and came over with a cup of tea for him. "What happened?" She asked quietly.

"Injured ego," he whispered, accepting the cup from her with a quiet thank you. "He's not physically able right now, and probably thinks it's better to throw me out or something."

She winced in sympathy. "I hear the Double-oh's are like this when hurt..." 

"They're always like that." He nodded in agreement, sipping at the tea probably a bit too quickly, not tasting it and ignoring the scalding burn. "Every single bloody one of them." He shifted on his feet, a little restless, his eyes flickering around. 

She nodded to the flask of soup. "That's for him."

He looked down at the soup and tea that he had brought for James and sighed. "If he wants it."

She smiled and there was a warmth in that gaze. "I am sure he would," she said quietly. "But you need to eat too... You know he needs you, but you’re now on his home territory... And you also have to wonder if the drilling could have damaged his emotions."

"She's lying."

Q blinked. "I eat," he said, feeling like dumping the rest of the hot tea over him just to shake himself awake. More so than he was already, of course. "What's his home territory, and what's mine?" He shrugged. "I know, which is why I'm giving him soup instead of a good yell in the face."

"Give him time to catch up... People were going to give up on him... You said for a time that he did not know you..." She said gently. "But...I saw you playing the videos to him .." Moneypenny hesitated.

His lip curled at that part about how "people" had planned on giving up on James, but he tamed the itching urge to start a credential-destroying spree, or just plain screaming, down to a minimum, and only gave a mild nod. 

Q did pause a little when Moneypenny brought up the videos, eyes flicking up to look at her face for the first time in a long while, face an impassive mask. 

"No reason for you to show them to her. They're yours. James's and yours. She didn't even let you speak to Mallory about postponing the horrible euthanasia plan they had for him. Remember?"

"She is just his secretary. There was hardly much else she could've done."

Something loosened inside of him as he finally sat down next to her, but the bit of distance was still there. "We filmed them while we were in Paris," he said quietly, taking out his phone. (His new one because the old phone had been taken from him, and Q couldn't be more thankful to his own careful habit of uploading backup files to his personal database just in case—which he had done while trying to test out his fingers with cracking into the local clinic's firewalls.) "If you want to see them, of course."

She shook her head. "No... I don't need to see them..." She said quietly and placed her hands on his shoulders. " But I was the one who guided him to get you out that damn bunker... He is in love with you... He told me so himself..."

Q retreated from the hold, tucking his head between his shoulders a little. He wasn't keen on being touched for a while, not after all of that manhandling, physical or emotional. A shiver broke through at the thought of the bunker and its cold, rough concrete basement floor, though, and he pursed his lips. "I know," he replied.

Eve let him go and her smile was kind. "Don't give up on him, William. Be patient, be kind... And be kind to yourself..."

He looked up at her. "I don't plan on giving up on him. Never have." Even when you people tried to turn off the life support. 

Tsk, tsk. Bitter. Bitter, Quartermaster. How bad.

He nodded in acknowledgement at her words and swallowed at the last odd advice. Of course he had to be kind to himself, he thought, if he didn't, then who would? "Thank you for the tea," he said, gathering his belongings like a shield as he stood up. "I should get going."

She nodded. "Go and see him. See you later."

He didn't reply to that see you later, and hurried away with a soft nod. He went down to Medical, avoiding everyone else he met with waning purpose in his strides the closer he got. But he soldiered on anyway, because as he had just told Moneypenny, he didn't plan on giving up on James.

James was where he had been before, although he looked more relaxed. His eyes were closed, but the breathing suggested that he was awake and there was soft music coming from the radio.

Initially, that Alec man was nowhere to be seen. Q thought to himself after a double check, hearing soft music coming inside the room as he silently turned the doorknob and peered in. Staring at James for a long time, noting how much more at ease the man seemed, he licked his lips and went in, closing the door just as soundlessly behind him, and sat himself down at the chair next to the bed, not saying a word.

"You’re back," James said quietly after a time.

"I am," Q replied a little stiffly a few long seconds later. "I have soup if you want to eat it... and tea."

He opened his eyes and his gaze swiveled to Q. Wary. "You shouldn't have come back."

"Why?" Q replied as casually as he could, setting the thermos flask onto the bedside table, balancing the soup container in his lap as he opened the lid.

"Because I'm a bloody invalid?" He growled. "At best... I hate this."

"You're not an invalid," Q stated calmly. "You just need to go through some physical rehabilitation to regain your muscle functionality." He stirred the soup slowly so the heat could escape it for a bit, releasing curls of steam faster that way. "Even if you were an invalid, I still see no reason why I should think of you as any less of the man that you are and somehow not come back." 

He sighed. "I know you hate this, despise it, repulse it... but your head was drilled again, and you were in a coma. Give yourself sometime."

"Even if my memory of you is in bits again? I know we were traveling but I don't know where it... why... I know we were together though..."

Oh... Q's throat was a little tight when he looked up at James again, but his expression was neutral. "It tends to happen when your brain was drilled, James. At least you still remember me, right?" He managed to crack a smile. "That's already good news... Now, soup? I can piece everything together for you once you're done eating?" 

He sighed and his fingers twitched. It was as if his hand was a separate entity to him and pressed the remote to sit him up slowly.

Q blinked. "You can move your fingers now?" He hadn't realized that.

"Twitches," and indeed by the jerky motion that he was sitting up, the muscles were tense.

Q nodded, reaching out one hand to place over James's own that was under the cover right then, patting it softly. "We'll get there." James would regain most, if not all, of his bodily functionality; he believed so. Knowing James, he wouldn't allow this to get the best of him and make him give up. 

With that, he blew softly on the spoonful of soup he had, and directed it to James's lips. "Careful... it's still a bit hot."

"What is it?" He asked suspiciously as he took a sip.

"Homemade soup by me. So if it's bad, don't complain too much," he joked with a relatively straight face, a quirk of a smile on his lips.

A smile teased his lips and he sipped the liquid off the spoon. "Determined to get me better?" He asked quietly.

"Obviously," Q scoffed. "I thought it was already apparent."

"I was horrid to you..." He said after a few sips.

Q sighed, gradually feeding James the soup with morsel bites of potatoes and carrots. "You were only upset... I understand how... frustrating feeling helpless is..." Too well, in fact. What happened was still too raw in his mind, and he was more or less suppressing it after all. "Even if I can't, don't, physically manhandle you out of my life or have a friend do it whenever I feel like it."

He winced as if those words stung him. Well, they did in a way, because Alec wasn't exactly subtle when it come to getting people to leave. "Yeah... Sorry..."

Satisfied by the wince, Q nodded. "Good," he whispered. "Just... don't do it again." He swallowed, managing the expressions on his face. "I can't guarantee whether I'll snap or not... And if you can be there to take care of me, then give me the chance to be there for you, too."

"I'll be fine in a few days," he said sharply and his fingers twitched. "Just need some rest and some time."

Q nodded, not saying anything else because his mind was already high-strung, and his snapping here meant he wasn't sure he could mentally handle himself, and honestly, he didn't want to throw that onto James right then. "Rest and recover. I'll help as much as I can."

"Stay here with me? If you help me move over, I'm sure both of us can fit on this bed," he said quietly, sudden and somewhat embarrassed.

Q smiled. "Of course I'll stay with you," he said softly, but determinedly. "But is it okay? I can just pull that cot over—" He gestured at the cot in the corner of the room with a slightly rumpled-looking blanket on top of it from which he had taken his pillow to cushion James's back earlier. "—I don't want my occupying the bed with you hinder your healing..."

"You take the nightmares away, you’re sleeping next to me. If they don't like it then I will pay for someone to nurse me from my bed so I can at least have you there too," he said stubbornly.

Q chuckled quietly, feeling the coiled tension in his mind releasing. "Okay, medical practitioners be damned then. I've been defying them too many times to count already to start caring now anyway." He shrugged, the lonely aches in his bones appreciating the fact that James wanted them to share a bed once more. 

It was odd, if not pathetic to a certain degree, but the relatively short while they had spent wrapped up in each other's arms whenever they slept seemed to have made it difficult for him to go back to settling into an empty, cold, single bed now.

James smiled at him and accepted the straw for the tea and raised an eyebrow at him, face darkened. "Been defying medical, have we?" He said lazily.

Realizing he might have let slip something he shouldn't, Q gave James a long look, watching the man drink his tea. "Not really," he muttered, only partially lying.

He smiled. "You blush when you lie. Did you know that?" He drawled.

Q's eyes widened fractionally. Obviously, he hadn't realized that before. "I-..." he stumbled on his words. "It's not like you comply much to them anyway." He frowned in embarrassment more than anything and averted his gaze. "And I did listen to them on having my fingers operated on..." His voice went quiet at this because he remembered the slight panic attack he almost had that day when they put him under so the surgery could proceed. The thought of blacking out, even for a while, around people with scalpels and other medical, technical tools while James was in a coma a couple of floors away, had been terrifying.

"Hey..." He said quietly, fingers twitching uselessly. "Love, I was teasing... For Christ’s sake," he glared at his uselessly twitching hand. "William, hold my hand so I can at least pretend I'm doing something right."

"I know." Q nodded before quickly reaching for James's hand, squeezing the man's fingers. "Sorry..." he breathed. "I'm being... weird..." A nervous laugh left his lips. "No wonder they've been telling me I need to go in for psychiatric counseling."

His head cocked and a shaky thumb moved across William’s hand. "Psych are after you?" He asked quietly.

Q relaxed measurably at James's shaky, light touch, just glad that it was there at all. "Have been for a long time already..." He shrugged one shoulder dismissively. "They just have more of a reason this time round to drag me into their oh-so-comforting care." He shook his head with a wry smile.

"So talk to me," he said softly. "In fact... Go home. Get a few sets of clothes and shave. Bring a bag. I'm being moved out of ICU. Then tonight, we can talk... And I promise I understand."

Q let out a singular sound of laughter. "I have one packed away right there already." It was tucked under his cot, so of course James wouldn't really see it. But the fact that James was being moved out of ICU caught up on him. "Are they giving you a private room? I can go and arrange it right now." He grew quiet and contemplative for a moment. 

"And it's okay, James," he said, leaning in to give the man a peck on the cheek. "You know how those people are... I'm just fine."

"I better have a private room - apparently there is to be agents stationed outside it..." He smiled. "But... You had better go and arrange it anyway," he gave a weak smile.

"There has to be agents outside... ones that I know well," Q murmured quietly, but returned James's smile. All the guards were ones he had seen working on missions before and had already had thorough background checks on. "I'll go quickly then." He nodded, giving the man's hand a firm squeeze and standing up. "We can go through everything when I get back, okay, love?" And he pressed a kiss to James's lips.

"Hurry back," James said, stretching to meet Q's mouth in a second kiss.

"Nothing in the world is going to stop me," he whispered teasingly, indulging in the second kiss, and reluctantly left. He met the doctors and certified all details with them, mostly revolving around James's private room and a few other minor details. One of them reminded him not to forget his own therapist for his hands, and he sidestepped the problem before retreating back to James's current room, feeling much less winded than he had been for a long while.

James was still there, eyes closed again. Resting. Awake but resting... His fingers twitched restlessly in on the bed.

Q closed the door quietly and came up to press a kiss to his lover's forehead. "I'm back," he whispered, hand coming up to rest over James's own as a measure of reassurance.

"Hey," he whispered but didn't open his eyes. He still looked tired still but that was to be expected. "So... Apparently the reason that I can't move is that they drilled again..." He said quietly... His voice sounded haunted. "Not just the part of my brain that remembers faces but also that controls muscles... I had a bleed on the brain... Like a stroke... I may not be able to regain all of it properly..."

Q began stroking James's hand softly as he listened, face growing grimmer by the second. He hated the fact that he had been thrown out when the full diagnosis came back, but didn't voice it because neither of them need it right then. 

Honestly, he hadn't expected much of anything else, though. His hand went up to rest on James's cheek, thumb smoothing over the cheekbone. "It's okay, love," he whispered, "as long as you can make the fullest recovery that you can. That's all that matters right now."

James nodded slowly. "I am too stubborn to do anything else," he said with a weak smile.

"Good," Q replied with a smile of his own, nodding. He went quiet for a while before saying, "Please don't push me out again..." There was a pleading note in his tone. "Not right now, not after everything we've been through." He squeezed James's hand.

James closed his eyes for a long moment. "I’m...trying..." He said softly. "I don't want you to see me so... weak..."

Q shook his head. "You're not weak, James," he said. "Any person who's willing to face his problems without giving up is not weak." He kissed James on the forehead, then again for good measure... because he knew. He knew he would come unraveling mentally if James seriously ever considered throwing him out again, and should that happen, it wouldn't be a pretty sight.

James gave him a long look and his eyes closed slowly in a grim acceptance. "Right now I can't do much, can I?" He said quietly and huffed in annoyance

"'Right now,' James. Of course not right now..." His hand continued smoothing over James's cheek. "You just woke up." Q shivered. Maybe James did not understand how significant the fact that he was up and talking to Q at all, let alone so lucidly as well, but Q did. 

After one week of being kept away from him, after all those horrible nightmares and thoughts that kept dancing like wild flutters in his mind during the night, after such emotional roller coasters, he was going to appreciate everything he had gotten... even if that meant setting aside the anger of being thrown out in favor of the utter fear it brought along with it.

James inclined his head. "Get in... Let me hold you as well as I can..." He said thoughtfully

Q nodded quickly, a wavering, lopsided smile on his lips, and helped move James a little more over to the side where the monitors weren't hooked up to, just a little because Q was thin, if not thinner than before, and he could fit into small spaces easily. 

As long as they weren't dark, enclosed, and locked, of course. 

He toed his shoes off, ignoring the chills in his limbs, and climbed in, fitting perfectly into the slot, curling into James's side like a vine seeking leverage and warmth.

James shuddered gently, an involuntary action and turned into Q as best as he could. "Love you," he murmured. "Now. Talk."

"Love you, too," Q whispered back, his eyelashes fluttering as his skin prickled in the gentle warmth that was James's body heat. He did freeze a little at the sudden demand, licking and pursing his lips. "What about, James?" he asked quietly, trying to avoid it as much as he could.

"Listening to someone hurt you for three days would destroy me, William," he said quietly. "You need go talk to someone, and if you can't deal with psych... Then I'm here."

Q shuddered, trying to make himself as small as possible even while still pressed to James's side. James had touched just the nerve even without trying. "I... I'm afraid—" scared, terrified, "—to let you out of my immediate sight. Afraid of you getting hurt again, is all," he admitted quietly, fingers picking absently at the hospital blanket they had provided for James. That was the general sum of things, anyway. The rest of it... he shouldn't mention them at all as he'd rather forget.

"That's not all," he said quietly... But he didn't push it. "But... getting hurt happens. It's the reason why we heal and get up and fight again."

"Getting hurt happens..." Q whispered, repeating the words, his eyelids feeling heavy, but not with sleep... Exhaustion more like, and the pain that kept twisting at his insides. "But I can't stand you getting so near death like this..." 

His nerve ends were growing too raw for that. But he said nothing else about what else had happened, pursing his lips, because he wanted to think still that they had gotten help behind their back, friends, supports, rather than people who had wanted to pull the plug on James without giving him a proper chance. And that hurt. The impact of it had most probably crippled a part of his functioning nerves or something because he felt like the rug had been swept from underneath his feet.

It just hurt. A lot.

"You’re not telling me something," James said quietly. "Baby, tell me..."

"It's nothing, James." He shook his head, trying to smile, and leaned up to kiss the man's chin. "I'm just tired, is all."

He shook his head. "Tell me," his hand tightened.

Q looked at James, chewing on his bottom lip and knowing that there was no way of backing out of this anymore. Should he refuse, then it would risk the hard-built trust that they shared between them, especially with James already very close to the verge of pushing him away (again) as it was. And so, drained and somewhat mentally crippled, he sagged and shuddered, letting out a soft breath with fluttering eyelashes. 

"You were in a deep coma for two weeks," he began quietly, too quietly, as though it took everything he had left inside of him to utter these words out. "They said your brain activity was too low... too weak... They said they wanted to take you off life support because you wouldn't have wanted to remain in such a way... I... I begged them." His toes curled, every muscle tensing up again as the memory of those hours flashed back like torrential waves in his strained mind. 

"I begged them not to... so much... to give us, you, more time..." He gave a tiny gasp, choking a little around the pulsing lump lodged deep in his throat. Never had he begged, not even when the tip of Holderbaum's knife was piercing into his flesh... This time, this time he had, and yet... they had outright refused him. They refused him. They refused him."But they still did it, and I... I had to stay there. I had to stay there until the end. I couldn't leave you there all by yourself. And I...I—..."

Christ, he couldn't breathe. 

"But you came back." Q let out a shaky breath, holding onto James tightly. "You came back, and I was so happy. So happy, James..." So much so that he was almost delirious with it. "Please don't push me away again." That was why he had reacted so badly when James had roared at him to get out. "Please... I can't stand it... I can't, I can't..." Not after they had nearly killed James in front of him, and there was nothing he could have done. Nothing he could have done to stop it. It was one time too many already.

Bond grunted and with an effort... He managed to pull himself over and wrap an arm around Q and held him tightly. He was holding on tight. "Shh..." He breathed.

Q supposed at that moment he realized that watching them end, or try to end, James's life had broken something inside of him; the pain was so disarming that he almost couldn't feel it through the sheer agony anymore. He held onto James, shifting so he would be burrowing into the man's body—breathing, inhaling, basking in the warmth... They hadn't given him or James a choice, and that, to him, was worse than anything, especially when these people were supposed to be their allies.

"It's okay..." He whispered, holding him. "It’s okay... I'm safe..." He whispered.

You still could've died, Q thought numbly to himself, eyelids drooping as the strength seeped from his body. Honestly, he couldn't imagine how he could have lived with himself if that had happened. He really couldn't. "Maybe I really should go to Psych, James..." he whispered in an exhausted monotone. "What do you think?"

"What if they came here and I was here too?" He asked quietly.

That would be wonderful, to be honest. Even so, he didn't want to discomfort and stress James when the man needed the utmost rest... Besides, there were certain dark thoughts that he didn't want James to hear either. "I'll ask them..." he whispered. "But I can go alone, James... I can manage it..."

"They will want me to," he whispered. "This way... We can do it together..."

"Are you sure?" He looked up at James, swallowing thickly, somewhat light-headed. "I know you hate Psych, James." His hand went up to smooth over James's face. "And I really just plan on getting something, some sort of medicines from them to keep myself in check..." He shook his head.

"Talking is probably more what you need, baby," James said quietly. "You may have a touch of post traumatic stress... Which is very normal..."

Q closed his eyes, sighing softly. "You know talking isn't my forte... Talking to you alone is already difficult enough as it is."

"Then try and talk to me," he said softly.

"I am..." Q pinched the bridge of his nose. "Never mind it, really; we'll... we'll deal with this later."

"Baby..." James said gently and sighed.

"It's okay, love. It's okay," he whispered, snuggling close to James. "You'll get better, and I'll be okay, too." That was the best reassurance Q could give right then. "Let's just get some rest now... it's been a long day."

"Sleep, sweetie..." Bond said gently. "Sleep, and I will keep you safe..."

"I know, love... You've always tried to keep me safe," he whispered, eyes closed, and it was the darkness of oblivion that took him, not sleep.

James looked at his hand that was gripping the bed bar and when one of the nurses came in, he had them place pillows behind his back so that he could not roll back. He looked at his hands and cleared his mind.

Wiggle your fingers. Wiggle your fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't until roughly an hour later that Q jerked awake with a soft gasp, and a sharp intake of breath. Immediately, his eyes shot open, frantically searching for James with sluggish urgency until his senses and memory of that day came back in one horrible rush and already, he was latching on to where James's heart should be, gripping just a little along with a tiny whimper. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

And the sheer relief made his body sag as though all the strength had been drained from it once more.

"I'm here..." James voice was soft as he pressed a palm to his back. "Right here... You’re safe..."

Q nodded wordlessly, just leaning into James's chest, feeling for the warm solidity and listening to that present, steady heartbeat. 

It took a few moments, but he finally felt stable enough to inch himself away. "'Afternoon, love," he whispered. He knew he couldn't have slept, if not straight out passing out, that long, not anymore as of late. 

James looked down at him, his stoic features seemed... worried. There was a frown on his face. "Hello, love," he said quietly.

Q observed the concern and worry unfurled on James's face, silently noting the frown on that set of brows. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Worried about you," he said and his arm tightened, the muscles shaking but there. His face split into a grin.

"Don't be." Q shook his head softly so as to not disturb the slightly swimming contents of his head. "I'll be fine." But when James's arm tightened shakily around him, he couldn't help but smile, too, albeit somewhat ruefully. "Been keeping yourself busy, I see," he said, pressing a kiss to the man's chin. "That's wonderful progress, love... just don't push yourself too much too fast."

James nuzzled him, slow and sensual down his neck. "I have to push it..." He said quietly. "I need to get you down an aisle, remember?" His mouth nipped over his jaw.

Q shivered for a bit, a small smile gracing his lips until a surge of heat spread across his face at James's quiet words. "Still want to marry me, mess and all, Mr. Bond?" He hadn't planned on bringing it up just yet, not until James had recovered more or less and had more time to mull over his decision, now that they were partially no longer in a life-or-death run, if he still remembered it at all.

"Yes," he said quietly. His hips pushed against him gently. "Although at the moment I have other ideas…”

Q let out a soft breath when their hips made contact. Of course he had noticed, and a smile curled on his lips still as he leaned in and caught James's lips, one hand coming up to hold onto the side of the man's neck, feeling the thrumming warmth. "And what ideas are those?"

"Getting very re-acquainted with you..." He all but hummed.

Q chuckled a bare, small sound. "Are you sure the doctors aren't going to throw me out for this?" he asked teasingly, finally. "Doesn't this count as you overexerting yourself?"

Bond chuckled and the sound was wicked, almost purring gently. "Well," he said slowly. "Considering I can't move that well, technically you’re going to be doing the leg work..."

Q smiled, the purring quality of James's voice tingling his nerve ends.

James’s teeth sank into the side of his neck. "I want you..."

Q gasped, shuddering and holding on. "I want you, too..." It did seem like the last time they had gotten intimate was a lifetime ago or something with too many things happening in between, including panic attacks. "Let me go lock the door real quick, then."

James made a soft, pleased noise and tried to get out of his way... It didn't work that well and he grunted. "William... Can't... Pillows behind me... You'll have to wriggle free..."

It wasn't difficult for Q to wriggle free, with his frame being so thin and everything, planting kisses along James's face all the way to keep the mood going before slipping off the bed to quickly lock the door. 

He temporarily removed the pillows from behind James, tossing them a little haphazardly over to the small cot he had been occupying. "There... Better, love?" he asked quietly, knowing that the reason they were there at all must have been because James had wanted to try and hold him while he slept.

James rolled back onto his back by the simple act of gravity and grunted. “Unless you can think of another way for you riding me..." He teased back watching him with a hooded gaze.

Q pursed his lips to stop a small laugh. "Nope," he muttered and climbed back onto the bed, slipping under the blankets and straddling James. Of course, the man was bare under the ghastly hospital gown they had given him, and so with a lick of his lips and a teasing wiggle, he leaned forward and pulled James into another kiss, slow and sensual, both hands slipping down to hold on to James's own, lacing their fingers together.

James groaned and arched... tried to arch but his body was not responding. He groaned.

"Shh..." Q hushed, kissing James's lips again. "I've got you, love. I've got you."

James sighed and seemed to relax a little in Q's arms. "I know..." He said softly.

Q nuzzled the man's neck, nipping and sucking slowly. "I'll be back pinned under you in no time, James." He ground his hips down, biting back a moan when he felt the effect that had on James.

"You like being pinned under me," he breathed and growled as his body responded.

"Of course I do," Q rasped softly, his hands roaming free, wondering if this would entice the nerves and help aid their recovery. "Who wouldn't with your gorgeous body?" He chuckled, pushing the flimsy gown up to expose the man's torso. "And it helps ground me as well... you help ground me to reality." And he kissed the exposed span of skin stretched out before his eyes.

"I wouldn't let many ride me..." He whispered, eyes closing as he felt Q, and let him touch him, let him take care of him.

"I know, James," Q replied, his voice low as he trailed kisses everywhere, interchanging that with gentle bites that briefly stung but otherwise wouldn't really hurt. Because letting someone going on top of one was letting that person take charge and have the upper hand in the situation, and neither of them were fond or trusting enough of anyone other than each other to allow that to happen.

James was quiet and responsive. His body was still a mass of fading bruises and swelling, and shivers trailed under Q's touched as he watched the man explore him... and he could not stop him. It was a binding that he could not break out of... not yet. He mewled as his body quivered in response. 

Q's heart was racing, thumping fast but without the frantic, panicking haze. Distantly, he realized that being with James was a whole new spectrum of exhilaration, even while it didn't differ much from the usual height he would feel post successfully completing something, either designing, testing a weapon, or hacking into a high security system—all of which he couldn't really manage right then. But he didn't dwell on that thought, and focused on his lover instead, on this man who trusted and loved him enough to let him do this, and to even want to entertain the idea of marrying him. 

It was odd. A good sort of odd most probably, as it chased away the dark clouds that had been swarming his space. 

And he explored James's compliant, willing body like worshiping a God, battered, bruised and everything, drinking in every sound and reaction like it was meant for him, and him alone.

For a moment there, he almost believed it.

"Suck for me, James," he whispered breathlessly, offering James his fingers, because he really couldn't wait much longer.

James did so, lapping at the fingers reverently. His tongue swirled between the digits, licking and sucking, coating them with saliva as he bit gently down onto the pads of his fingers. 

Q groaned, blown pupils watching intently as James's nimble, red tongue swiped over his fingers, and his chest heaved a small whimper when the man's teeth bit down just for a bit. He returned the courtesy by biting down onto James's collar bone, sneaking his fingers away from that mouth, and slipping them down to where he had already pulled his trousers down. 

He kissed James fervently as he prepared himself in a hurried haze, pushing in and out, stretching just enough so that it wouldn't be total agony when he had finally sat himself down onto James's cock. 

"Ready, love?" he muttered, their lips millimeters apart.

"So ready," he tried to sound blazed but it came out breathless.

And Q didn't need to be told twice as he lowered himself down gradually, the tip of James's shaft slipping past the first ring of muscle had an exquisite burn to it that made air escape from his lungs in a rush. And just like that, he slowly took James in all the way until the man was fully sheathed inside of him, his body tensing with pain-tinged pleasure—it was glorious.

"Fuu- William..." The sound that Bond made was a ragged, torn thing, and he trembled under the touch. "God..."

Q smiled, dazed and flushed, chest rising and falling in a fast, hurried rhythm not quite matching his heart but getting rather damn close to it. He didn't wait and started moving already, desperate to feel James and this union that temporarily, somehow, connected their bodies together in an unfurling heat of twisting passion and pleasure that sang from their skin. 

He captured James's lips in a searing, consuming kiss.

The fact that Bond had managed to get an erection, and the fact that pleasures ran through his entire body were very good suggestions that he could heal from this...

He kissed back, hungry and desperate for him.

Of course, Q realized the significance of this, and his heart reveled in the sheer joy of it all with a fluttering, aching intensity that almost hurt. They would somehow recover from this; he knew they would. 

"I love you," he managed between vigorous kisses, breathless and slightly lightheaded.

"Q... Oh..." Q had him, and he was bound in that love, held so tightly that he didn't know what to do. It almost hurt to feel that love...

It also hurt that he couldn't hold it much longer. "Q..." He groaned. "I’m... going to come..."

Was it strange? To feel something this strongly even though he had never been an overly emotional person before? He didn't know, he couldn't understand it, but it was so overwhelming, so encompassing that he almost wanted to crack James open, crawl inside, and burrow himself within that tight, pulsing warmth.

The thought was frightening, the violence that lurked behind it, but James's groaned words swept him away once more, and Q nodded urgently. "Come inside me, baby," he whimpered, willing his straining muscles to move faster. "Come for me." 

James roared as pleasure, white hot and dangerous, tore through him like naked fire. He broke, and his cries were thready as he pushed up to him.

With a whimpered gasp, Q could feel James pulsing and climaxing inside of him, the thready spurts of heat making him shiver, as he reached down between them to not just stroke himself, but to also catch his own orgasm so he wouldn't make this messy for them both. It was still a hospital room, and he would have to, more likely than not, enter the CCTV database and erase this particular footage out of existence, seeing as he didn't feel like letting anyone's prying eyes into an intimate moment of James and his. 

Q collapsed on top of James, hand sticky with his own come, forehead pressed to the pillow next to James's head, heaving and struggling for breath. His remaining hand still squeezed James's tightly, and Q perhaps realized that something might indeed be wrong with him when unbidden tears fell without him even entirely feeling their arrival. 

He pressed a tender kiss to James's brows and swallowed. "Let me clean us up, love," he whispered with a smile, brushing away the salty droplets with his shoulder, minutely releasing James's hand to snatch the tissue box on the bedside table and starting to wipe the traces of their passion away.

"Hey," whispered James. A shaky hand rose and wiped away the tears. "Sweetheart, no..." He whispered. "Don't cry..."

Q let out a softly choked laugh, one hand coming up to hold on James's shaky one and pressing it to his cheek. "I do this too often nowadays, James," he whispered, kissing the palm of his lover's hand. "I don't even know why I'm crying right now." Which, in all honesty, seemed really stupid... Maybe... He didn't know anymore.

Taking in a shuddered breath, he pulled down James's hospital gown and removed himself from his straddling position. "Best if I go change and shave," he said with a coy smile, pulling his trousers and pants up, fixing his slightly askew glasses. 

James head turned and followed him through. "Okay darling... Love you..." And he was asleep within moment's, exhausted from there love making.

"Love you, too..." William whispered back, smiling and watching James fall asleep after all that physical exertion. They'd get there, he thought to himself, they would.

*

Over the next few weeks, James healed and went from strength to strength in baby steps at a time, and he let William help him (often with persuasion).

And so a number of things happened over the course of that time. After helping dismantle the sprawling network of Spectre from the system of MI6 (orchestrating, directing, sometimes participating), Q was approached with a proposition regarding his being reinstated officially as the Head of Q Branch—a proposition that he nearly turned down instantly just out of the sheer fact that Mallory had been sitting there right in front of him. 

But then he thought about the remainder of Spectre, about how they hadn't managed to capture Blofeld (yes, at least they had managed to obtain substantial information on this supposedly dead man and dragged out the bastard’s name) just yet, and James, who then was still recovering but was already making a lot of good progress despite it all. He thought about the screams, the paranoia, the raw, agonizing pain of being captured, and those stopped him in his track. 

"I'll consider it," was the slow, careful answer that he had given, before excusing himself with a stony expression. 

The one thing that he hadn't had the courage to admit, even to himself, was that... the confidence he once had in his own ability had been ruthlessly shot down to the ground, before getting trampled upon for good measure. He was no longer sure whether he could manage it or not... 

Was it really worth it... attaching himself back to MI6 in exchange for their uncertain safety?

Honestly, he hadn't had a clue, but some sort of protection, some sort of forewarning, was still better than nothing.

Right?

And so, here he was, back into the ward they had given James once they had moved him out of ICU, watching with amusement at the horrified look on the face of the skittish nurse, who, obviously, had never encountered a Double-Oh before (former or not) who was as stubborn as an embedded, crooked nail in the wall that one just couldn't take out, not without damaging the surrounding material. 

His mood was still largely on and off these days, but at least, seeing James like this, already sitting up and doing as many things for himself as possible, it was enough to cheer him up. A lot.

He hadn't talked to James about the offer just yet.

"I am going to bloody walk and that's final," Bond snapped at the nurse as he sat on the edge of the bed, trying not to look at him because he knew that he would start laughing.

"Let me help you, then," Q said, offering the man a smile.

"You can walk with me," James said after a moment, "and you can glare at people who stare at my bare back side."

"I'll gouge their eyes out if they even so much as try," he drawled, face entirely serious, which made the nurse blanch a little. Even though James had yet been released back into the so-called 'wild' in full health just so people, who were newly admitted later on, would know exactly how real all those legends about Double-Ohs were (seeing as the programme itself was still in rebuilding), people had been having quite a taste of William's quartermaster temperament. 

If anything, after all that they had been through, William had only grown to be more ruthless in his methods of dealing with trouble—detecting them, uprooting them, and (should there be no other specific order, uncertainty, or overall benefits otherwise) killing them on site. 

So, of course, they knew he was serious, very much so. Probably even with the gouging. 

And William smiled at James.

James beamed at the nurse, “Isn’t he wonderful,” and he extended an arm to Q.

Which Q accepted with a steadying hold. "Well, that's no secret there," he scoffed softly and playfully.

Honestly, the nurse didn't know whether these two were jesting or not, but there had always been this very disconcerting air about them that almost unnerved everyone anyway (even those who knew them beforehand), so he wasn't too ashamed of the antsy feeling that kept creeping up his limbs and spine whenever it was his turn to be around this couple. 

Gradually, they helped James out of the bed and maintain a good balance on his feet before the nurse eventually, slowly, let go just so only Q was the remaining one that held on. 

Slowly, they went for a little walk… just up and down the ward. “So… I have something I want to talk to you about,” James said quietly as they walked.

The nurse was walking slowly behind as well, just to monitor everything and making sure that all was right on track, and Q was holding on tightly and firmly, never allowing there to be any chance for James to slip. True to his word, he was then glaring at the few other patients that were there as well, and for one reason or another, they were actually turning their occasional curious glances away. Good. 

James's quiet words caught the rest of his attention that wasn't on the man, though, as he turned to his lover and blinked. "What is it?" he asked back, equally quiet.

"They say that... if I can stay with someone, I should be able to get out of here in a day or so..." he hesitated. "I was wondering... if you minded me... staying... with you..."

Q shot James a pointed look. "We're supposed to be having a wedding, and now you're hesitating to ask if you can stay with me?" He tried to keep a straight face, but a fond smile broke through in the end. "But of course I wouldn't mind, love... How could I be?" 

He raised the hand that he was holding so tightly onto right then and kissed its knuckles. "Though I'd have to go back tonight or so to clean the place up for a bit..." he trailed off, shrugging. He had been staying here in Medical all these weeks with James after all, albeit the certain visits he had to pay his apartment to gather new clothes, pick up his laundry, and whatever else... Other than that, he had been neglecting everything else...

"Darling, I don't care how messy it is," James said with a wry grin. "But... I will let you go for a few hours if you promise me that I can meet Twist? I need her approval if I am to steal you," he said in a very gentle tone. 

Twist. Q faltered for a bit at that. His cat... he hadn't met his cat in over two months already... It wasn't that Q had forgotten about her, no. He still lingered for a bit in front of Sarah's door every time he stopped by at his apartment, wanting to say hello or anything... but he couldn't. He really couldn't bring himself to, not when most things were still up in the air. 

But this... with James home, his focus would shift home, too, and Q supposed he could finally take Twist home again as well. 

He nodded, smiling softly. But of course James Bloody Bond would realize that he had not yet picked up his own cat back. "Okay." He let out a soft, singular sound of laugh. "I'll let you meet her."

James Bloody Bond missed the subtle signs completely as he stared at Q, and a frown crossed his face. "Is this okay? Me asking if I could stay... I am not the James Bond who went missing and turned up in Indonesia..."

"Of course," was Q's immediate reply. "James Bond before or after going missing and turning up in Indonesia or not—" Q suppressed a slight shudder at this, "—you're my partner. They have nothing to stop us from doing this." Especially not after Q had taken the liberty of filling his own information into James's emergency contact in the man's profile while he had been having a go at the system. 

"I have something to tell you, too..." His thumb smoothed over the back of James's hand, going quiet for a moment and deciding that this was as good an opportunity as any to speak to James about the question that had been running around in his head lately as well. "They've offered to reinstate me as the Quartermaster again..." he began quietly, licking his lips. "What do you think? Should I take it?"

“Yes,” there was no doubt in that voice. The answer was as quick and firm as any that he had given. “Yes, you should take it, love… They need you. The agents need you…” his has squeezed his. “You’re the best man for the job.”

Q softly smiled at the solid certainty that rang in James's voice. "Honestly, R, my second in command, can manage it pretty well herself..." he said quietly as they rounded the corner and began heading down the corridor instead of up, chewing a little on his lip. "And I just... I don't want to fail them, the agents and everyone," like I did you.

"You won’t, though," he said softly. "I know you won't... you’re far too stubborn..." he said softly. 

"I thought so when we were on the run as well..." Q replied with a soft sigh. "And look at where that landed us."

"We landed here, and we are here now..." he said softly. "We won..." he said quietly. 

We won. The words spun in his mind... Aside from Blofeld not yet being captured, they were very quickly and thoroughly removing all of Spectre's moles as efficiently as they could. Nationally first, then internationally. 

Had they won then? He had never thought about it like that, not in such terms. They were here, and they were together. James was making a wonderful recovery, so were Q's hands, and they were moving in with one another before (supposedly) getting married to each other. 

All was well. 

All was well.

Q tried hard not to think of Holderbaum's threatening screams, like an animal struggling right before approaching its death, and smiled at James's words. "If you say so..." he replied, leaning closer to James. "I'll take it then. And I won't let you down."

"You never have," James stopped and leant against the wall. His limbs trembled as he rested a little.

Q didn't say a word and only held on to James, waiting for the man to catchhis breath before they continued on their journey back to James's ward, where he finally whispered a "thank you" to his lover. 

*

That night, true to form, Q went back and started cleaning up his apartment once James had had dinner, promising to come back right before bedtime. Probably hearing him vacuuming the floor, Sarah came knocking. "Oh God, where have you been, Lucas? I was worried sick about you!" 

She then proceeded to fuss about how thin he was as he explained to her that there had been a few problems and detours in his trip, before insisting that she helped him clean up as well... which turned out to be quite a blessing because the woman was efficient as a machine, and it took them just two hours to clean everything up. Not that he had been messy to begin with anyway, but the accumulated dust and a bit of cobweb needed taking care of, and a few boxes of spare parts moved. 

Contrary to popular belief, he did not bring anything dangerous or confidential home. 

And so, after offering her tea, asking her (please kindly) to keep Twist until the following day, seeing her off, taking a quick shower, he headed back to James, flushed and a little out of breath.

James was waiting. He was dressed… his shirt open, and his jacket loose, which made him look more casual than he usually did, he offered Q a warm smile. “Hey…” he said quietly. “They let me go…” 

Q stared, the sight of James wearing even that casual look so well only managed to make it that tad more difficult for him to scramble air into his lungs. A smile spread on his lips. "They did?" 

He went over and pressed a kiss to James's lips. "What are we waiting for then?" It was without a doubt that James was sick up to his neck with this place, and so was he, and he couldn't wait to get the both of them out of here as soon as possible. He slung his bag of clothes over his shoulders before helping James up. "Let's go home." And he smiled.

James leant on him a little as they walked out to the car. Of course it would be a day or two before Q would learn that James had discharged himself into Q's care but he needed out. "I technically don't have a home..."

Q, suspecting not a thing with James recovering so well as he was doing and with how he had been so busy with overseeing Spectre's system dismantling, helped James out into the compact car of his before throwing his bag in the backseat. "You live with me now, so technically, you do," he replied, kissing James on the lips again and starting the engine up to take them away. "Until we find ourselves a new place together, of course."

"I warn you... I'm not exactly housebroken..." About the only possession that he truly owned right now was the damn Balinese fishing knife from all that time ago. "I don't really... know how to live with someone."

Q scoffed quietly at James's words, a smile on his lips. As if he didn't already know that. "Good," he said, turning on the signal to make a left. "Neither do I. We can both learn to cohabit than."

Bond felt himself smile a little at that. "I promise to try and be good," he said quietly with a smile.

"You'd better be," Q replied with an amused smile himself, eyes flickering briefly over to James before averting back to the road. "A fair warning though, it's not a big place." He had originally intended it to be his own space instead of sharing it with another, after all... but at least the bed should be enough for them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this has taken so long, things have been mad for the both of us. This story is developing wonderfully, and my wonderful co-author and I have a second 00Q on the go, with a bad guy who masks Eckhart Holdenbaum look like a kitten… and a currently unnamed Harry/Snape story, which we are working on… a sneak peek of that one… 
> 
> The screech that Snape had heard was a vocal sound that came from Harry's throat, a gurgling, bubbling sound that turned into laughter.  
> High pitched and manic laughter that rolled though him like a poison and something in Harry realised that this was very very wrong... But his Dragon had a mind of its own, and his anger, his madness...  
> 
> 
> Snape was a traitor. He was a Death Eater! He was... Lying snake... Evil...  
> 
> 
> Destroy him! a voice in his head whispered. His physical hand extended and his wand pointed over Snape's heart while his mind held him, picking apart his sanity.  
> 
> 
> "Ad-..." He shut his mouth. No! This wasn't him. This was external, someone else pulling strings. Realisation gave him strength, and the self awareness. Harry... He was Harry...  
> 
> 
> Say it!  
> 
> 
> "No!"  
> 
> 
> A sound filled his head like nails in chalk board, but his walls shielded him from the worst. It wasn't an attack from the Dark Lord... Just his influence.  
> 
> 
> Snape!  
> 
> 
> The Dragon guardian was hovering over him now, protective as his mind started to divide. Anger and hatred towards this man began to boil...  
> 
> 
> Harry felt himself fading, slipping into anger. Looking down at the mental representation of his physical self, he was semi translucent as own anger and frustration destroyed him.  
> 
> 
> He did the only thing he could think to do. He walled them both away from the storm.  
> 
> 
> "Professor Snape! Please wake up..."  
> 
> 
> He recalled his words.  
> 
> 
> "Severus!


	4. Chapter 4

Seeing as they were already in Central London, it didn't take long at all to make it back to his apartment, being somewhere in the same area as it was. He helped James out as they took the lift all the way up to the top. Q took out the keys, unlocked the door and pushed it open, turning on the light. It was a loft studio apartment.

There was a bicycle leaning against the wall of the short, slightly narrowed hall that would eventually lead them into the main living area. Sometimes, before, he'd used that to get around, mostly whenever he was in the mood and wanted to wind down a bit from everything. 

"That's the bathroom," Q introduced, gesturing to the closed door on their right just two steps away from the main one. This had once been a factory before it was conformed into an apartment, as far as he knew, so the layout was a bit quirky and awkward... but Q didn't mind, never had, and he supposed it was the reason why he had even rented it in the first place. He helped James in, knowing that the trip, while relatively short, must have worn the man out much already. 

"Cute..." James said softly, limping in besides Q. He was tired, really tired and he dithered in the doorway for a moment. "Do you have enough room for me?" He asked thoughtfully.

"Of course I have enough room for you," Q replied, rounding the corner that lead to the high-ceiling space that was his studio. The open-plan kitchen was to the right, and opposite of it, on the other end of the room, was an indoor hammock that he tended to curl up in for the occasional afternoon naps on days that he was home. A coffee table with a few chairs were in the middle, catching light from the tall window where he had built in a window seat...

He led James over to a chair so the man could sit down. "It's pretty straight-forward from here, really. The bedroom is up there—" He pointed at the staircase that led up to the intermediate level above. "And..." 

He paused. Twist. Yes, Twist. 

"Give me a moment, love," he said, pressing a kiss to James's forehead and hurried away downstairs. Q apologized to Sarah for the late hour and inconveniences before picking up Twist, who mewled upon finally catching sight of him and not just his lingering scent, looking just slightly miffed. But well, it seemed she missed him enough to tolerate his hold at any rate, and just that alone was enough to bring a smile to his lips. 

"James," he called softly when he closed the door again. "Twist is home." The Turkish Van jumped from his hold and began sauntering inside, and Q watched as she paused and tilted her head in fascination upon spotting a stranger in her house.

James paused and leant forward to look at Twist. His head cocked to the side and clicked his tongue, stretched out his hand to the cat.

"Hello, Twist," he said softly. "It's a pleasure."

Q was crouching on the floor, hands on his knees, watching everything with a highly amused expression, a smile lingering on his lips. Twist considered James for a moment before approaching slowly, her nose slightly upward as though sniffing for a bit, sniffing at James's extended hand, then gave it the slightest of lick. 

This surprised him for a bit, because he had hardly seen her do it immediately to a stranger before, until a brief, sudden, and rather embarrassing thought flashed across his brain: he and James had been very close for the last nearly couple of months and... Twist, being a cat, must have scented it. Maybe.

He blushed, clearing his throat. "She approves then," he informed softly.

William did not look half as surprised as James clearly was and he blinked slowly, holding out his palm… And gently scratching the cat behind the ears. "She approves of me?" He asked quietly.

Twist purred, leaning into James's hand and scratching fingers. "Yes. Seems you have been accepted into the pack," Q teased with a soft nod. If he didn't know any better, Q would have been jealous because it took Twist a while to actually warm up to him. If it hadn't been for Oliver... it would have taken even longer, he supposed. Oliver, being younger of the two, had been friendlier.

Q waved the thought of Oliver away, focusing on the fact that Twist seemed to have taken quite a liking to James. "Try to pet her," he suggested. "Her coat is really soft and smooth." As per usual for cats of this breed, and he had always been rather smitten by her and Oliver's fur.

James tried but the moment that he did, Twist promptly lost interest and walked off, leaving him feeling foolish.

Q pursed his lips to keep himself from laughing aloud, which didn't turn out to really stop the small giggle, but oh well... "Don't worry. She's usually like that," he reassured James before spotting the still outstretched hand and coming up with a swift idea. 

"Besides." He unfurled from his crouching position and began crawling closer to James, nuzzling his cheek into his lover's hand. "You have something else to pet."

James watched him as he crawled closer and his gaze darkened. His fingers touched his hair ever so lightly, stroking it gently. "You’re gorgeous... I shouldn't like you kneeling at my feet as much as I do..." He muttered.

Q smiled coyly. He still wasn't used to hearing James refer to him as gorgeous, but he liked the way how the pupils of those striking blue chips dilated too much to give this act up that soon. He purred softly, leaning into James's fingers much as Twist had done, albeit more sensually, craning his neck and inching closer until he was nestled between the man's thighs. "And why shouldn't you?" he asked in a soft whisper.

"Because you’re worth ten times what I am," he said as he stroked and petted.

Q shook his head quickly and whispered, "Don't say that," leaning his head against James's knee. "I'm worth as much as you are..."

He snorted dryly. "So then I need to tell you to stop putting yourself down," he said quietly as he stroked.

Q nodded a bit meekly at that, chewing on the insides of his cheeks, even as he believed that every thought about himself that he had revealed to the man had been true. 

James paused. "You like being on your knees?" He asked quietly.

Q blinked a little at the quiet question. "I like being on my knees for you." Or, to be more precise: "I like to do as much as I can for you." To protect you, to keep you from getting hurt any more.

James watched him for a long moment and then his eyes closed. When they opened again, they blazed with a fire, with a burning heat. Bond licked his lips. "Do you have an old sheet that you don't mind me wrecking?" He asked quietly.

The fire in James eyes when they reopened once more sent shiver up his spine. Q's mouth went a little dry as he nodded. "Yes... I do." He supposed that he did. There was one that he had been using since he first moved here a few years back, and while it was still usable, he didn't really mind seeing it go either... especially under James's hand. "But what for?" he whispered out of curiosity. 

He smiled a little, a wicked look in his eyes. "Go get it... Scissors... Lube... A bottle of water..." He murmured.

Q couldn't quite hide the shivers that came with those sparks of wonderment and fascination this time, his breath coming out in a quiet rush, as he nodded and quickly got up to fetch the required items. This was his apartment, he knew where everything was like the back of his hand, and so it didn't take him long to return with those four things... and kneel down in front of James again after deliberating the action for a split second.

James smiled and took the sheet, before his hand went to his hair... And suddenly tightened as he pulled William do kneel up. "You are mine," he growled and tugged him into a savage, hungry kiss, before letting him go, tearing a large strip from the old bed sheet. "Take off your glasses," he said quietly.

William tensed up a little when James's hand slipped into his hair and pulled him forward, straighter onto his knees. The possessiveness that rang true in every growled syllable made him feel a little breathless even before that harsh, hungry kiss stole the remaining air in his lungs away. 

The sound of the tearing fabric rang in the quiet air, competing to the flutters of his heart, as he stilled a little at the request. Because his glasses were his clear portals to the world, the specs that allowed him to see what was going on in his surroundings, they had unconsciously become a part of his armor as well as a tool of torture from time to time as well (making him see clearly things that he didn't), especially after what had happened to them both. 

However, this was James... If he could trust no one, then he could trust James, and so carefully, he took off his glasses, folded them, and gently pushed them to the side and out of the way, before smiling shyly back up at the blurred image of the man he loved before him.

James leant forward and caught his chin lightly in his hand. "Steady, baby... I have you..." He stroked back strands of his hair. 

William nodded. "I know..." he whispered, leaning into the touch like a creature yearning for warmth and contact. 

"What's your safe word?" James asked softly.

"Yellow for a break..." Q began quietly, anticipation thrumming in his veins. "Red for a full stop."

He nodded. "Good boy," he said quietly and he reached out and slowly tied the sheet around his head, over his eyes, cutting out his vision.

The praise soothed, but it didn't stop his breathing from hitching when the blindfold fell over his eyes and dark began closing in on him. Keep calm. He told himself, subconsciously reaching up to touch James's hand briefly, needing some solid reassurance. Keep calm.

"I'm here, darling," he said softly, and his hand came and caressed his cheek lightly. "You’re safe..."

William tried to regulate his breathing and eventually swallowed, nodding. He wasn't inside that trunk again. He wasn't inside that trunk again. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Strip for me, darling," James said quietly.

Shakily, William reached up his hands to pull out his shirt from his waistband and started undoing the buttons on his cardigan first then his shirt, then the under tee that he had... It wasn't about the weather (of course not) because, unconsciously, somehow, he had begun to wear as many layers as he could while going out, not wanting to make skin contact with anyone anymore... Not that he had ever worn any less before anyways, just more conscious and aware about the act. 

Cool air ghosted over his bare torso, and William breathed deeply in and out twice, before fumbling a bit with his belt and pushing down his trousers and pants, tongue swiping out to wet his lips, as he stood up to carefully pull the legs off. He felt just a bit vulnerable standing there naked, deprived of his vision, and so shivered slightly, pursing his lips somewhat shyly.

James watched with an intense gaze, knowing that he could not hear him. "Kneel baby... And come here..." He said and ripped another strip from the bedsheet.

William knelt down as instructed, heart pounding in his chest, and blindly inched closer in the same direction he knew should be the right way to lead back to James according to his memory, not allowing the darkness to disorientate him. 

His toes curled when the noise of tearing fabric sounded again, grazing at his nerves and sensitizing them further.

"What do you feel?" James asked quietly as he tore the rest of the sheet into strips.

William tried to stop himself from fidgeting where he was kneeling, that ripping sound caressing his senses in a sharp yet sensual way, as his stomach coiled with expectation for the unknown. He took in a soft breath before replying, "A little... nervous..." 

He chose to be truthful, feeling that there shouldn't be any secrets between them, not in that moment when he was giving his control over to James. "But mostly... curious and... excited..." That last word came out in a quiet rush, and he could feel the heat spreading up his neck and face.

"Have you ever been tied up before?" He asked quietly.

Q swallowed and shook his head. "Not in the positive sense of it... no..." he whispered, his face lowered to the floor. "But I... I want to try it out with you."

"Hands behind your back... That's it..." James murmured, approving, and he began to braid the makeshift rope together. "Do you have limits?" He asked quietly.

Heart pounding loudly in his chest, breaking even through the roaring rush of blood through his ears, William did as was told, air leaving his lungs in soft, sputtering bursts. "Nothing vulgar... Anything else can be negotiated..."

James was suddenly behind him, crouching down. A length of the makeshift rope went around his neck and tied off at the back. He checked it by sliding his hand around to cup his throat. 

William inhaled a sharp intake of air when the cool material of the sheet slipped around his throat, all signals and neurotransmitters in his brain mixed and torn between tingling nervousness and sparking excitement, even more so when he felt James's calloused hand sliding over his skin. 

"You have an incredibly sexy neck," James murmured, and started to work on his hands. He moved them so that each hand rested on the other elbow and then bound them there.

Gradually, his hands were bound to their opposite elbows as well, and he shuddered. "James..." he whispered, "are you sure you're not... too tired for this?" They had just gotten back from the hospital, and just minutes before, the man had looked quite tired and worn from the trip.

James didn't speak... save for pulling his head back roughly—by a handful of hair—and kissing him harshly.

William let out a soft hiss, his neck craning just in a slightly off angle that bared his vulnerable throat out, lips crashing with James's in a demanding, harsh kiss that was more teeth and bites than gentleness. A groan wriggled past his lips, the question temporarily escaping from his mind.

The truth was that James had very little in the way of energy and his body was telling him that he didn't have a hope in hell of performing, not tonight. But as the kiss broke, his mind started to catch up and work out his plan. "Shuffle forward..." He ordered quietly and James moved with him, one hand on him at all times... Grounding... Soothing.

Should he know, William supposed he was going to forever remain a skeptic of the blindfold, seeing as putting it on essentially blinded him to James's condition. The hold in his hair relented but never left, and he found himself shuffling forward as though wading into the unknown darkness ahead, somewhat lightheaded from the disarming kiss, with both hands tied to his back. But it was the very presence of that hand that actually soothed his ruffled feathers and allowed him to continue on with this, no matter how fast his pulse rushed and blood circulated around in his veins. 

He pursed his lips. James, of all people, wouldn't abuse his trust.

"Easy, steady..." cooed James as they moved forwards together until they met the sofa. "Lean over it," he instructed quietly.

William almost, almost, jerked when his knee met the edge of the sofa, instinctively tugging somewhat at the restraints that had successfully pulled back his shoulders to further bare his naked torso. His eyes rolled behind closed eyelids under the blindfold as he tried to guess what was going to happen next. He hadn't tried this before, having never found just the right partner to give over his trust entirely like this, and even if he had, William had a feeling that with the sort of unpredictability that James possessed, it would still be quite a difficult thing to anticipate his next move.

This wasn't exactly the field where he knew what the agents under his management would more likely than not do next based on familiarity, pattern, and a feel for their conduct, after all.

But he took in a breath and did as was told, leaning over the sofa, the material of it brushing completely over his skin, rubbing into it with a strange sense of nudity to it.

"You’re gorgeous, baby..." He stood and leant over him, kissing up his spine slowly to the makeshift collar and harness, nibbling his shoulder blades.

It was hypersensitivity with his other senses trying to make up for the lost eyesight, William knew as he drew in a sharp gasp, arching somewhat and shuddering under the gentle kisses that were trailing up along the protrusion of the spinous processes on his back. 

He flushed still, having never grown used to hearing someone use such a bold adjective to describe him, twitching just slightly when James's hot mouth and nipping teeth descended onto his shoulder blades.

"Still green?" He prompted gently.

"I don't exactly have much trust to waste on strangers," William replied. After that first kidnapping and rescue, his mistrust for general society only grew. But it was all right at that moment, he thought, he was with James—he was in warm, steady, and protective hands.

"And do you trust me?" He asked softly as a finger, slow and slick pushed into him.

Not having seen that coming, William tensed up a little, James's lubricated finger pushing slowly and gradually inside, the traveling signals between his synapses making the neurons fire in a wild haze. "Of course I do," he whispered, the tiny whistling sound of his nostrils whizzing in an urgent breath. "With my life." And William supposed that had been proven on enough occasions already over the course of the last couple of months or so.

"Good," he breathed and nipped his jaw. "I am going to have you screaming my name..." he murmured possessively.

William shivered, leaning into that mouth, but he licked his lips and managed a soft tease: "Haven't I always been since the start?" The start of this relationship, the start of them. James's presence had been so strong and commandeering, unknowingly or not, that it overcrowded many other things, and William might as well focus his entire time and energy on the man just to quicken the process... which, eventually, he did.

James chuckled and curled his fingers against his prostate. "Ah, but you can't fight me back when I tease you now," he muttered, as he chuckled and nosed his neck. 

William couldn't stop the small whimper from ripping itself from his throat, his spine arching just a bit. James's chuckle was close enough for him to feel the spikes of vibration in the proximity between their bodies, the man's nose nuzzling his sensitive neck only heightened his awareness. "You sly man," he whispered back with a playful, singular syllable of laughter himself.

“Only for you, angel,” he purred into his ear and nipped his shoulder lightly. “I love you…” he crooked his finger.

William chuckled softly. James really could think up of rather odd pet names for him because if there were one thing he was sure about it was that he was certainly, by all stretches and means, no angel. No angel sent people to their deaths, after all. His breath hitched when James crooked his finger and stroked over his prostate again as he pushed back, just a little, onto it. "Love you, too..." he whispered breathlessly.

"You like that," he said as he slowly pushed a second finger into him... And he started to pump gently.

It was difficult to imagine how he couldn't. So far, William had enjoyed every sexual encounter they had, and while this scene was still unfolding with him efficiently restrained, there was nothing about it for him to complain about just yet... and nothing that would suggest this wouldn't turn out to be a promising, pleasurable experience as well. With James's reassurance and careful guidance, of course.

He made a keen sound, air leaving his lungs in a sharp whoosh, when the second finger was added (unexpectedly again) and both of them began to move together. His heart raced, toes curling, as he bit on his lower lip. "James..." he whispered, suddenly reminded by the increased activity of his earlier question. "Are you sure about this...?" He whimpered. "You were tired when we came back."

“I am tired,” he said softly, as he curled his fingers… “It doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy driving you wild, darling,” he purred… and brought the palm of his hand down on his rear… hard. A sharp smack. 

"I don't want to—" William moaned despite himself, pushing back just a little, right before he felt what could have only been James's other hand slapping down onto his arse cheek hard. The sudden force of it, the surprise, the burst of tingling it brought to wash over his system propelled him forward with a sharp, jolted gasp. "I-I don't want you to overexert yourself like this…!"

James was grinning. Grinning like a cat as he rubbed down his spine gently. "I promise not to over do it," he murmured, kissing his shoulder.

It was because James tended to push himself too hard and place other priorities over himself that worried William. And that was not even talking about his stubbornness just yet. But because the man had just promised, and because he was being blindfolded right then, William supposed he would have to take James's word for it. "I trust you, then," he whispered in return, almost like sealing the promise for them both, and let out a soft sigh at the rubbing hand on his spine and soft kisses on his shoulder.

"You've been so wound up while I have been sick..." James said softly, and crooked his fingers. They were moving faster now, more demanding, "I want to give you something back…”

William whimpered, his hips rolling and bucking somewhat, laboring over his breathing. "Since when am I not wound up about you anyway?" He smiled in an amused fashion, coltish limbs tensing and muscles thrumming accordingly to the pace James was setting, like a string humming the exact tune it was made to play. "Just... as long as you don't feel—" He gasped, just for a bit, disrupting the words. "—as long as you don't feel obligated to do so..."

“I want to…” he said softly. “I want you to relax…” he said quietly. 

William supposed he had been on edge and agitated for a long while already... although it was well justified anyway, the cause for it. Safety and reassurance, nothing too fancy and yet extremely difficult to obtain, he had found. Danger could be lurking everywhere, after all.

However, right then, right in that moment of time, the quietness of James's rumbling voice, the intimacy of the moment, the passion reeling in his veins... they all pushed a sigh out of his lungs as he licked his lips and nodded. "Okay, love..." he whispered. "You've always been so good to me..." he chuckled softly.

"And," James leant over him, nipping his back. "I want to hear you scream as you come. Roll over, move up onto the chair... I will keep you safe," he breathed.

He shuddered at the raw promise behind James's words, because ones that were whispered in such a tone had always been properly delivered. Swallowing, William did just that, flustering with his balance for a bit but the sofa remained his guidance, much as James was his first reassurance in this fumbling darkness right then, and finally sank down into the soft cushion. Not knowing what was expected next of him, he stayed where he were, waiting for more instructions.

"Part your legs," he muttered as he knelt at his feet.

Somewhat shaky with excitement and hesitation at the same time, William parted his legs, the position only managing to make him feel that bit more vulnerable than he already was, blind anticipation injecting itself in bulk into the fluttered beating of his heart. His stomach coiled. James will keep me safe. He thought to himself, his own mental whispering and mingling with James's own inside his ears. James will keep me safe.

James settled between his legs, resting his hands on his knees... 

William could feel James's presence closing in on him, and that only was prickling his skin in a way that made his spine arched even though technically nothing had yet to happen. Everything was narrowed down to hearing and sensing right then, and he could acutely feel the heat transmitting from those warm palms and calloused pads of fingers on his knees, keeping him still and spread. 

He drew in a slightly shaky breath, body tensing, and while not entirely reeling from nervousness, the sharp edge of spiking awareness was enhancing his arousal.

And James’s mouth covered the head of his cock gently.

A gasp ripped itself from his throat, breathy and somewhat pitched, when that sensual cavern enveloped the tip of his cock, hot and wet and so, so good. "James..." he moaned, body giving a soft jerk.

The mouth vanished. "Yes, dear?"

William bit back a whine, though not quite sure how well he was actually managing that. "Never mind me..." He moaned, legs twitching. "Just continue."

James grinned and took him deep into his mouth, as he slid a finger inside him from his current position.

James's smugness practically radiated off of him, and William scoffed with a small smirk himself despite the flush that crept on his cheeks, partially from complete and entire exposure and partially from his unabashed demand just then. But the thoughts were quickly blown away as he hissed and arched, a small, choked cry perching on his lips when he felt his erection engulfed again, more deeply this time, accompanied by a finger pushing inside his slick entrance.

It was about pleasure right then. The simple unabashed pleasure. Fingers flexing, tongue fluttering, he was pushing him. Pushing him to the edge of pleasure, wanting to hear him.

There was hardly nothing else that William could do aside from holding on and trying to ride the waves of pleasure that James was giving him right then. The moans and groans left him in abandon, and God, the restraints were frustrating and glorious at the same time. He wanted to reach for James, to have the feel of his skin under his palms—the heat, the desire, the burn—but at the same time, it was the yearning that made it all feel so good. 

"James," he breathed, perhaps sobbed at some points, arching into every provided touch like a dried up sponge needy for more, soaking up everything that he was being given.

James worshiped him, in every sense of the word. The touches were slow, measured, and pleasurable. His intentions was driving him bad, so as William got more needy, more fever pitched, he took him to the edge... And stopped

William's body writhed under James's manipulations, and he could feel his control chipping away, transferring over to his lover bit by bit. Pleasure thrummed through him like liquid fire, hot and searing and sending him into an unbelievable haze that was driving him faster and further toward the edge. The heat was all-consuming, and so was James, and his focus zoned in on the man and him alone... In that moment, nothing else seemed to matter... It was as though there was no one else but James in this world, and William found that he actually didn't mind that prospect at all. Not really.

But then, suddenly, everything stopped. 

He let out a high-pitched whine, breathless and bucking and moaning for more. "James!"

"Yes, dear?" He asked. James did innocent extremely poorly.

"Oh God..." Whimpering and whining again, his heart hammering on too loudly, William was twitching where he was, hardly able to keep still. "Y-you... Please, you can't just stop there."

James drew his tongue up the length of Williams quivering erection. "And why can't I?"

William let out a pitched cry, his body seizing a little under the teasing wet heat, feeling the pooling bead of precum spilling. 

Change tactics, whatever remaining functioning part in his brain hissed. Change tactics!

And he shakily, but as firmly as he could manage in this position, wrapped his legs around the man, hooking his ankles together and pulling James closer. 

"Because it's rather cruel," he rasped playfully, out of breath without a doubt, "and I can't stand it, Sir..."

Laughter bubbled up in James throat and be stretched out and drew him down for a soft kiss.

Q couldn't stop the small chuckle from escaping his throat as well, feeling the makeshift rope around his neck tugging, as he sighed into the soft kiss they shared, nibbling and sucking James's lips, and groaning just a bit the second he realized that slight musky scent he could taste more likely than not belonged to him.

James grinned against his mouth. "You like that..." He faintly accused.

William grinned in return, all modesty temporarily out of the window. "I found that I like a lot of the things you're doing right now, love," he replied, leaning forward to steal another kiss, his teeth slightly biting down onto James's lower lip and pulling them out just softly before letting go.

James curled his fingers lightly inside him. "Such as?" he asked quietly.

William gasped softly, the sparks of pleasure pulling him back to the partial reality of his current position, and he swallowed thickly. "You tying me up and leaving me essentially at your mercy?" he prompted with a small, playful quirk of his mouth.

"You’re enjoying it..." he purred in his ear. 

William responded with a near violent shiver. "Y-yes..." he gasped, trying to push back to the fingers that were then moving and teasing inside of him, but it was mostly futile efforts at any rate... There was no solid leverage at all.

"What does it make you feel?" he whispered as he curled his fingers at a languid pace, "How does it feel to be helpless and at my mercy?"

William's chest heaved labored breaths, hips rolling and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. "S-strange..." he whispered, somehow feeling almost compelled to answer. "I... I'm nervous but thrilled at the same time..." It was difficult to explain, but he knew James understood where and what he was trying to get to... After all, trust was a difficult thing for them both, considering their history.

James smiled and lowered his mouth to William and began to suck hard.

William arched and cried out, his fingers twitching helplessly in the winding, reeling need to touch and feel James... He had always been quite a tactile person himself, always wanting to feel things with his own hands and having an affinity towards handling small, delicate objects and parts. Now, with his arms secured to the back, he could hardly do anything, and that was eating away at his nerves... in the best of ways, of course, because it was James he was submitting to.

There was something inherently aggravating and sublime about this that he couldn't quite place, enveloping and swallowing him whole. 

"James," he half panted, half sobbed, writhing in the intense pleasure and need... need for anything more of his lover at all.

"Come for me," James whispered as he curled his fingers almost viciously and licked firmly over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

William's muscles were straining, the edging heat spreading all over his body and burrowing into his bones, aching and burning at the same time, twisting and eating him up from the inside out. The hard press of James's fingers, the scrapes of the man's blunt nails over his prostate drove him senseless, and it didn't take longer before he was coming as ordered, the endorphin and euphoria pushing him over into incoherence, ears ringing, spine arching almost painfully, and James's name spilling from his lips. 

Hot release spattered his chest, and his body sagged, slumping into the sofa as though the strings that pulled at him had finally been cut loose, trembling and twitching in uncontrollable spasms.

James was good, and the breath that the orgasm was over, he was up and gently pulling William into his arms.

He was boneless and pliant against James, shuddering and shiver and gasping desperately in the gentle, wrapping heat radiating from his lover's body. "I can't begin to tell you—" he whimpered shakily to the warmth beyond that darkness of the blindfold, the words rolling from his tongue like a dam somewhere had been broken down into pieces inside of him. His heart was thumping so loudly that it hurt. "How happy I am when your heart didn't stop..." He was referring to that day back in the hospital again—a day that would forever remain a jarring scar in his mind of just how close he had gotten to never feeling this man alive, breathing and pressed up to him once more.

What would he have done had that moment turned out differently?

Honestly, he didn't know... and he really didn't want to consider it anymore. He didn't want to consider an alternative in which they lost one another, not to enemies, but to allies who hadn't even allowed them a full chance.

Bond stroked his hair as he started to speak, to communicate with him the tide of feelings and emotions that he felt. Sometimes... you needed someone to break through the ice, to force you into being vulnerable...

James, the clever little bastard, pushed the blindfold out of the way.

The stroking William could feel in his hair, it both calmed and frayed his nerves some more, such tenderness and care... And his chest clenched in a painful, breathless pinch. It still hurt so much in a way that he couldn't almost comprehend. He couldn't comprehend how James had transformed him into this emotional creature that seemed nearly dependent on the man for a reason to draw in air and breathe. It might sound exaggerated, but it was what it was, and he had never been a terribly eloquent person himself.

His pupils constricted when light finally pierced through, and the blurry image of James was glowing in the flaring light. William let out a breathless, choked laugh. "What have you done to me, James Bond?" His body was shaking still, but it wasn't because of the exertion from sex... not anymore. "I love you so much it hurts... I can't bare the thought of losing you."

James didn't bother untying him. He reached for the scissors and in four cuts, had freed him from his makeshift bonds.

Wrapping limbs around him, James pulled him onto his lap and held him tightly. "You won't lose me..." he murmured between tender kisses.

Stop falling apart, William told himself. Stop... just stop. But being with James... it had always felt like being gradually deconstructed at any rate, deconstructed and just a little rearranged. Being released so suddenly from the restraints, his limbs tingled before he fell easily into the man's lap and wrapped himself around him, clinging on like a twining vine. "I'm sorry..." he breathed. "I keep on doing this to you... making you pick up the pieces..."

"Hush..." he whispered. "Let me be there for you... like you were for me..." he muttered in his ear gently. 

"But I can't... I can't keep doing this to you, James..." He swallowed, reaching a hand up to card his fingers through the still somewhat short blond hair that had been shaved off by those sick bastards. 

"I'll... I'll try to pull myself together now." Q laughed softly for a bit, pressing his face into James's own. He could be just as he had been before in front of anybody and everybody—R, Moneypenny, Mallory, the other agents, people from MI6, his so-called minions—but he couldn't really feign that to James... they had long since past that phase already, he suspected.

"I was unconscious for a long time..." James said softly. "I remember your voice... you were always a comfort..." he whispered.

Somehow, that small fact brought a smile onto William's lips. "I read that it was good to maintain communication, so I did everything I could..." Making idle, one-sided conversations and all that. And it seemed the effort had been paid off. "I knew you were listening... You had to be..." That had been all he had left to cling to, really.

"You told me you loved me..." he said. "I've... never been loved before. It's... good."

William let out a shaky breath, turning his head to press a kiss to James's temple, arms tightening around him. "I do love you... so much." He'd tell James that every day if the man wanted to; it'd probably serve as a good reminder. "I knew you were too stubborn to let go just like that..." he managed a soft chuckle. He knew he wasn't acting insane when he kept talking to a man who they insisted had enough brain damage to render him being in a vegetative state for the rest of his life. Ludicrous, really. They knew nothing about James.

James said nothing for some time and teased the tension out of Q's shoulders, just held him tightly against him. "It... wasn't easy... my memory is still mixed up... and he..." James shuddered suddenly.

William took the opportunity to breathe in James's scent, leaning against the man. "We'll sort them out gradually, James," he tried to soothe, hands gripping on. "'And he what James?" he prompted quietly, wondering what it could have been that James was only telling him then.

“He said… a lot of things…” he said quietly as he closed his eyes. “It’s hard to remember that he was a obsessive maniac, but I try to remember…”

William held his breath, nuzzling James's neck tenderly. "What exactly did he say?" He whispered. 

James paused, blue eyes in the distance, and shook his head. "Nothing that matters, love," he said quietly. "Don't worry."

"Tell me anyway?" William whispered determinedly. If it got James worry enough to even make mention of it, then it had to be something of importance. 

James shook his head and shuddered again. His mouth pressed against Q's forehead. "Forget I mentioned it, love," he breathed.

His heart clenched at yet another refusal, James's lips hot on his forehead, but it was nothing unexpected anyway. This was James Bond they were talking about after all. "Please, James?" He all but pleaded. "Let me help you."

"What do you want me to say? That for a while I didn't believe you existed? That I am wondering if I've gone mad from loneliness or pain or if I'm still lying on that table... What can I say?"

For a moment there, William blundered. What could Blofeld have done that had even managed to make James doubt his existence? What exactly could that psycho have said? "Oh God, James..." He breathed, his hand stroking the back of his lover's head gently. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His throat was pinching, and he was trying to breathe around the lump that had lodged itself there. He gripped James tightly, like clinging onto a lifeline.

"You have not gone mad, and you are certainly not still lying on that table, love. You are here with me." He paused, pursing his lips. "I am real, and we are safe." What more could he say? What more could he do to make James believe? He honestly didn't know. "Please, believe me." And he pressed a kiss to the man's jaw and lips. 

His head fell back onto the back of the sofa, and he slid down a little to close his eyes. “I know you’re real… I know you are…” he whispered. “You’re naked on me, and I still have your come on my lips…” he said softly.

Normally, such words would have mortified him to a certain extent, even if not much, but right then, he was just glad that James had just confirmed that the man knew he was real, that he was truly there. "Yes," he whispered, kissing the column of James's neck slowly and carefully. "If I am real, then so is this reality, James."

He groaned quietly, licking his lips. "Promise?" he asked softly. 

"Promise," Q replied with a firm tone and nod, nipping on that pulsing point in the side of James's throat. "I've never had any reason to lie to you." Pausing briefly, he breathed in the scent of his lover and allowed it to fill up his lungs. "Now, let me reciprocate."

"You don't have to..." he whispered, looking up, eyes wide. "I wanted to do that for you..." 

"Of course I don't have to," he replied, gently straddling James's lap, grinding down softly as his hands reached up to cup both of the man's cheeks. "I want to do this for you, too." And he leaned down to kiss those lips, sucking and nibbling with measured pressure, slow and not pushing at the same time. "Now," he said quietly after finally pulling away. "What do you desire me to do?"

He sighed and closed, arching under William. "Whatever you want to do, baby..." he whispered. 

William sighed himself, leaning their foreheads against one another. "This is for you, James... so tell me what you want?" he prompted gently.

"Whatever you want," he whispered back. 

With a soft, by no means menacing, growl, William descended down onto James's throat with abandon, lavishing the skin and flesh, biting down onto the part of the clavicle that was visible under the casual shirt that James was wearing.

Everything after that was a blur, as just as that part of bondage with James had been, but he somehow managed to get them up to the sleeping area and under the covers for the night. James was exhausted as he had expected, and William curled up against the man, holding him tight and close. "I'm here, and you're here, too," he whispered into the dimmed space (something James indulged him, considering that he couldn't quite tolerate complete darkness right then very well still). "And I love you." 

He kissed James's chest and bid him goodnight.

James didn't answer him, he was already fast asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Q was on the phone when James woke up the next day, speaking quietly to other person on the other end down in the common living area.

He came downstairs, thumping heavily. His limp was more pronounced, it still took some time for his brain to catch up with his body, and remember that it was attached... he dropped into the chair. 

Q gave him a tight-lipped smile and leaned over to press a kiss to James's mouth. "Yes, I know," he replied, still on the phone, though the stiff tone contradicted his facial expression completely. "Morning," he mouthed to James.

"Hey," he mouthed back. He shifted and pressed his head into William’s lap.

Q's hand found James's hair and began carding through it, gently massaging the man's scalp, knowing that he had been getting more headaches as of late... The thought of the reason behind that seeped lead into his stomach, but he pushed that away, categorizing it into a specific files that he'd utilize to the fullest capacity whilst dealing with loose ends from Spectre. 

He'd end the life of every last one of those bastards if he could. With an appropriate amount of deliberation going into the process, of course.

"Yes, goodbye." He hung up and turned his attention back down to the man whose head then was pressing into his lap. "How are you feeling?"

"Not yet functional... you may have destroyed my brains last night," he teased, still mumbling.

"Hardly," Q replied dryly with a small smile, leaning down to plant a kiss to James's temple, although the lovely ache in his lower back was a wonderful reminder of their activities the previous night. "What do you want to eat, love?"

His hand went to his head and his eyes squinted. "Not that hungry at the moment," he replied.

Q hummed, already suspecting the answer. It was then that Twist hopped on to the sofa. She edged closer at his beckons, and he finally pressed James's palm to the cat's soft fur. "There." He smiled.

Bond shifted uneasily. "I don't want to hurt her..." he said softly.

"You won't," he reassured his lover, watching as Twist tilted her head to the side with a curious expression on her face when the hand on her fur hadn't yet moved. "Just stroke her as you'd usually stroke my hair."

His fingers curled and ran through her fur gently.

It was precisely because she was a Turkish Van that her fur, having no evident undercoat, was extra soft and fluffy. She purred when James's nimble fingers began moving, leaning more into the hesitant touch, and Q smiled. "See?" His hand still continued stroking James's hair. "Play with her when I'm away for a bit later on?"

James frowned and turned his gaze to look at Q. "Where are you going?" He asked quietly.

Q sighed, a displeased expression on his face. "They processed the paperwork, and need me to come in to finalize the last steps before giving the Department over to me." He didn't like that they were using the tricks of 'we have already had a schedule booked' to get him to appear, but it wasn't something that he could do much about, considering all the projects that were being pushed forth back into active duty again right then. "It won't be long. Three hours top. Then I'll be off for the next few days, okay?" He smiled, smoothing his hand over the stubble of hair near James's ear.

"Give me five minutes to dress, and I'll come with you," replied the agent as he stood up, and dragged himself back to where his clothes were kept.

"James," Q called, standing up and trailing after him, slipping his arms around the man from behind. "You don't have to go," he said quietly while leaning his forehead against James's shoulder. "You're still tired, and it's just going to be tedious signing and a quick debrief with Mallory." 

His hand calmly stroked up and down the side of his lover's front torso. "And you do realize, after discharging yourself out last night, they are going to drag you back down to Medical the moment they see you?" He kept his tone light at this; of course he had been informed.

James snorted and arched his eyebrow at him. "Ah... yeah... about that..." he sat on the bed. "I couldn't stay there..."

Q stood, arching one eyebrow in kind himself, before his lips turned upward in a slight bit of amusement as he leaned down to press a kiss to James's forehead. "I know..." James had been restless and agitated for a long while before that already, like a caged tiger, forced to be somewhere he didn't belong; it had only been a matter of time, as they called it. "So it's best if you stay home..." He crouched down onto the floor before the man, looking up with an adoring smile. 

"And Alec has just come back from Uruguay and is asking for you." The agent had been restored to active duty once all the checkups were cleared, even if the Double-Oh Programme was still waiting for approval from above, although he was holding track record of having one of the briefest meetings with Psych right then. "Do you want him to come over?" Not that Q trusted anyone much anymore, but Alec and James did genuinely get along very well with one another, aside from the fact that he was one of the few people that James seemed to still remember the most, despite his memory problem. "You two can try not to destroy this place while I'm away?"

James had visibly brightened when William mentioned Alec, and he smiled. "If you wouldn't mind?" He asked. "It's been too long."

Q laughed a little. "Should I be jealous?" he teased but shook his head nonetheless. "Of course not, love. Let me call him now before he decides that inflicting himself upon the staff is a good way to stave off his boredom." He took out his phone and did just that.

A sultry woman's voice answered it. "William Sterling, sex God's phon-" the woman's voice vanished and was replaced by Alec. "Yeah?"

Q's eyes narrowed in mild exasperation. "Yes, it's Q," he replied in a drawling tone; the line was, of course, secure. "I hope you're not too preoccupied to drag your sex God's arse over here to meet with James?"

"Not that occupied. Tell the bastard to stop laughing," because of course, James was practically convulsing with laughter.

"Quite." Q grinned; it was always a pleasure to see James this happy and relaxed. "But really? William Sterling?" he inquired with an amused arch of his eyebrow.

"Brothers, you know. Richard and William Stirling. I'll be there in ten," and the line went dead.

Q rolled his eyes, lowering the phone. "The first name of his alias has to be the same as my real one," he muttered under his breath before turning back to James, who then still had that grin on his lips. "Sex God coming in in ten," he informed with an amused smile himself. "Just make sure he doesn't tease Twist, she doesn't like it that much. Although playing with her using the toys is fine." 

He leaned in to kiss James again. "Do try to eat something while I'm away," he suggested quietly again. "Would you like me to make you a sandwich or something?"

James shook his head. "Darling, I'm really not hungry," he said quietly.

Q didn't like the answer, but he understood, and didn't push. "Okay... Maybe when I get back then." He gaze James's hand a squeeze before standing up and starting to change. It was a good thing that Alec was coming, he thought to himself, fumbling a little still with the buttons of his shirt. Aside from the fact that Alec's presence would help lighten James's mood, Q supposed he would make a good security measure for his lover as well. 

Not that James couldn't take care of himself, but with a deep coma sharp on his heel after having had his head drilled for three days, Q didn't want to risk it. 

Then came the jumper once the shirt was done, and the jacket outside. Layers and layers. His usual thing anyway, but now he found even more comfort in it. 

It was then that the doorbell rang.

James opened the door and greeted the big Russian, talking to him in a soft voice as he pulled him inside. Alec had in his hand a bag of what appeared to be doughnuts, the sugary smell almost intoxicating, and three cups with the name of a high end London coffee shop printed on it.

"Morning ladies. Cappuccino for James and tea for Q. There are doughnuts too."

By the time Q was down in the living area, the smell of freshly made doughnuts had filled the air. His nose flared a bit, and God, it was good. He plucked the tea from the paper tray and took a sip, closing his eyes. He guessed he shouldn't be surprised, Alec had been (as he had checked) formerly 006, and these Double-Ohs were always like this, from James Bloody Bond to this Russian man.

"'Morning," he said. "I trust Uruguay went well?" He hadn't been the one to overlook the mission, but he hadn't heard much of it from the people that did, so it must have been one of the easier to complete ones.

"Piece of cake—which was, incidentally, where the drugs were being smuggled in," he said as he watched James deftly pluck at doughnut. "I'm on babysitting, am I?"

"First they use it to make fake dolls, now they stuff it inside cakes," Q rolled his eyes, picking up one chocolate for himself, before sitting down next to James, smiling when the man at least seemed to be accepting this instead of refusing it like he did actual food. 

The question from Alec made his leer his eyes over to the blonde. "I wouldn't be so sure about who's doing the babysitting here, considering that I've been seeing complaints about you picking on the staff out of boredom."

Alec snorted. "No one who couldn't take it."

"Right," Q said slowly, finishing his doughnut and catching the sight of the clock out of the corner of his eye. "All right, boys, I think it's my cue to leave. Behave yourselves." He shifted and kissed James on the lips. "Don't let him get you into anything reckless, and I'll be back soon, okay?" he said quietly with a smile.

Alec looked mildly offended, but James just smiled and returned the kiss gently. "Be careful," he said softly. "Come back soon."

Q ignored Alec entirely, his focus zooming in on James as he leaned his forehead against the man's. "Okay... I will." Another chaste kiss, because he was very reluctant to leave (the last time he did, albeit forcibly, James had ended up in a coma), and Q forced himself to let go and to appear not overly anxious about having James out of his sight for more than an hour at a time. 

He picked up the unfinished tea and took in a deep breath, licking his lips. "Thank you for the tea, Alec." And with another glance at James, he turned to leave.

"Any time," he said and Alec sat down across from James, and there was a tinkling bell which indicated that one of them had been joined by Twist. 

*

It was as tedious as he had expected, paper signing, and all that business. There was a brief debriefing with Mallory before it transitioned into a meeting with the rest of the other department heads, as a formal introduction, in which new and old faces mingled alike. Nothing had changed that much though, Q realized, seeing as he was still on the receiving end of many sceptical glances from the other older members of the board. But it wasn't just about his age this time anymore, it was because of his so-called 'probably illicit' involvement with former 007, James Bond. 

Q snorted. As if he gave a damn, really. 

But now he was standing here, after all of that, with a slip of paper in his hands saying that he had a Medical and Psych evaluation, of all things. Mandatory. Of course he knew it was mandatory, he was one of those who agreed upon the decision after all, and now he couldn't say that it was either a regretful or necessary decision himself. With a sigh, he headed over to Medical first.

The doctor was fine, they checked him over and sent him to Psych.

It was Psych that most people had problems with, not just because everyone always had that certain parts inside of them that they did not feel like sharing, or because these psychiatrists were as persistent as wild grasses, but also because of the fact that one could hardly know what sort of things that those sharp, calculated eyes could see and read through one's behavior before jotting everything down as notes for later usage, including miscalculations. 

Even before the run, Q had never liked Psych himself. Now, after everything, it was becoming increasingly so. 

However, he understood why they had to do this, and he also remembered the promise to come back early to James as well. So, with a deep breath, he pushed the door to Psych and came in. It was eleven in the morning right then; if they did this quickly, then he should be back right about lunch. 

Good plan, he thought to himself when they finally called his name to head inside the office, good plan. 

-

"Q?" R’s voice rang in his ears, and the world tilted a little. "Q." 

He looked up with a soft intake of breath. "Yes?" 

"I thought you were supposed to be home early today?" R asked. Right then, he was down in the area they had reassigned as Q-Branch's. 

"Yes... I was..." He blinked, looking down at the slip of paper he was clutching in his hand. "I just finished with Psych." 

There was a pause before R asked, "Are you okay?" 

"Of course I am," he looked up at her. 

Suddenly, she sniffed. "What's that smell?"

"Must be the incense the doctor was burning when I came in." It was actually a rather soothing scent… before it made his eyes sting a little. Then he raised up his hand to check his wrist watch, eyes widening upon spotting it was already nearly two. "Shit, I need to go. I'll see you in a few days." And he dashed away.

*

Q got home to the pair, they were sitting on the sofa, two large mugs of tea on the coffee table, and they were laughing together. 

It was good to hear that warming sound of laughter, especially coming from James, after all that nagging from Medical about how he should eat more and ease up on trying to make his fingers type too fast too much, and all of that 'mind hacking' business from Psych. He looked at the preliminary diagnosis the psychiatrist, Bedelia Ross was her name, had given him—the word 'PTSD' stuck out too much like a sore thumb in his vision as he wrinkled his nose and stuffed it away inside his pocket. Whatever.

He unlocked the door and came in. "I'm home," he said over the laughter, strolling in and looking at the two men with a smile. "Should I be proud that everything seems to be intact at first glance?" he teased, coming over to sit down next to James. "I'm home, love," he said it again, personally between him and James this time.

James looked up and extended his arms... and his face fell. "What’s wrong?" he asked softly. 

Q froze but easing himself into James's arms nonetheless. He didn't think he had been entirely at all that obvious with the outcome of the pre-diagnosis, had he? Not to mention that he wasn't even that bothered by the evaluation at any rate. "Nothing is wrong, love," he smiled, nuzzling into James's neck and sighing. It had always felt wonderfully comforting here in the man's arms.

James looked at Alec, and nodded slightly. The Russian left them, and slipped out. "You are white as a sheet, love," he said, and patted his hair. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Alec standing up and leaving, half wanting to ask the man to stay (if only to help James relax some more), and half feeling like he would love to be alone with James once more. "I am?" he whispered, tilting his head to look at his lover, confusion clearly showing on his face. "But I feel perfectly fine."

"What happened today?" James said softly. "Talk to me..." 

"Nothing much," Q replied, shaking his head. "It's exactly as I told you. Lots of paperwork to sign, a debrief with Mallory, a meeting with all the department heads... Then I had a mandatory check up with Medical and Psych." He sighed, blinking. "That's it."

Ahh...

"How did psych go?" he asked softly. 

"Mundane and redundant," Q replied in a mutter. "She kept asking questions in circles," a trick that they had been known to use anyway, psychiatrists, "and it's just time consuming. That was why I couldn't make it home much earlier." Which rather miffed him to be honest, but he waved it off.

James grinned a little. "So what did she say then?" He asked.

"Lots of things," he replied with an exasperated eye roll. "She said she would have to discuss this with the other doctors as well before coming to a well-rounded conclusion." He shrugged, thinking of the pre-diagnosis paper in his pocket briefly, and disregarding it altogether.

James sighed and crossed his arms. "Are you afraid to tell me or something?"

Q blinked, cocking his head to the side. "That the preliminary result came back with me having PTSD?" he said quietly. "No... I'm not. We've already known that for a while, James." He paused, sighing. "I'm just wondering what sort of conclusion they'll come to in the end, and how it may or may not affect our lives."

He arched an eyebrow. "PTSD... what's wrong with that?"

Q shrugged. "It's hard to say. They may or may not give me meds, and may or may not make me go to sessions... And well, they could very well deem me mentally unfit for the job. I don't know," he sighed, carding fingers through his hair, messing the tangled locks even more somehow, and just leaned into James. 

"William," he cooed, drawing him around into his lap. "You are so lovely... psych can be useful... don't tell them that I said that," he added with a grin. "If you need to talk to someone, I would encourage it. You’re not a field agent, there is no shame in you asking for help."

Q peered up at James, though with perhaps more amusement than anything else, a small, teasing pout on his lips. "I don't see how you could incorporate encouraging me to talk to Psych and saying that I'm lovely, and still somehow managed to pull it barely off." He paused for a moment, pressing his lips to James's, before continuing: "And there shouldn't be anything shameful about field agents asking for psychological aid either... especially with the sort of work that you do..."

"Yes, but most of us field agents are stubborn assholes," Which was also a valid point. "I am saying that what happened... you may need to talk to someone."

"As if I'm not stubborn myself," Q murmured under his breath in reply. His eyes flickered to where his finger was tracing meaningless patterns on James's chest, then looked back up at the man. Of course, James was right. And while it discomforted him, the idea of talking and sharing what had happened with anyone else other than between the two of them, his point from the previous night still stood: he couldn't keep having mental meltdowns in front of James. The man needed his healing time, too, and Q wasn't about to turn himself into the one person who would disrupt that.

"Okay." He nodded. "I'll give it a shot." After one session or two, if there were even going to be sessions at all, he could just claim that they were too time consuming, and just slip away more or less unscathed. That was as good a plan as any.

James nodded slowly, his hand raising to his hair and his fingers combed through ever so lightly. "Thank you..." he said, raising a hand to rub at his temple, the headaches that seemed all the more prevalent.

"No, thank you." And Q watched James rub his temple, biting back a soft sigh. "How about some tea and a nap?" he suggested with a soft smile; they both needed some rest, he supposed, if he were as pale as James said he was... for whatever reason. "You should try the hammock; it's surprisingly comfortable and cooling."

"Do we have anything for a persistent headache?"

Q sighed. "Just aspirin and paracetamol; would these suffice? I can dash out real quick to the chemist for anything else if you want ?" 

"No," His grip around William tightened a little, and he buried his face into his neck with a sigh.

Q nuzzled close and pursed his lips. "What can I do to ease your pain, James?" he asked quietly. Aside from giving him either aspirin or paracetamol, of course.

James smiled, just a little and kissed his hair. “Turn back time over a year so I shot the bastard the first time that I saw him,” he said quietly, his smile weak and very tired. 

"Pity I haven't figured out how to generate enough energy to break through the space-time continuum without short-circuiting the entire UK," he whispered back, jesting, too, but the tone was a bit off for that. Sighing, he leaned up to press a kiss to James's brows. "Let me get you something for your headache, love," he said, one hand smoothing gently over James's forehead and hair. "Then we'll take a nap, okay?"

James reluctantly let him step away and nodded. "Okay, honey. Have you eaten?"

Q tore himself away with reluctance himself, and shook his head. "I haven't." But he didn't feel like eating anything either. "Do you want to eat something?" He went into the bathroom and opened the cabinet to fetch the meds, before heading over to the kitchen to get James some water. 

"Not really," he replied. "Bed?"

Q nodded and led them up to bed, gently tucking James in, wrapping them up in the blankets, and pulling his lover close. "I love you," he whispered, biting down a soft sigh.

James hummed and curled into him, snuggling close and closed his eyes.

*

Q stayed home for the rest of the week, trying to find ways to make the best of both their time, trying to help James acquaint himself with this new place... just generally trying to be helpful and happy.

Alec stopped by one more time before he had to go on another mission, India this time, and other than that, they were mostly there, home, by themselves. Twist warmed up to James fairly quickly, making Q think that her initial lick during their first meeting hadn't just happened to be on a whim after all.

The calls were coming in more frequent now, calls from Six, asking for directives, and he didn't like those—not only did they disrupt his and James's privacy, but they also were calls that he couldn’t turn away, which was extremely aggravating in their own right.

It was Sunday, a lazy, partially cloudy day, and Q turned to James, cradling a cup in his hands. "I don't want to leave you home, James," he whispered suddenly and quietly. Not all alone like this.

James smiled a little. As attentive as Q had been, the truth was that James was down. A touch depressed. It was to be expected, of course. With a brain injury, the fact that he constantly had a headache and his co-ordination seemed appalling... it was little wonder.

"I'll be alright," he said quietly. "Twist will keep me company."

"But..." Q pursed his lips, setting the cup down, and edged closer, their knees brushing. "What else would you do?" Twist was great, she was active and she liked to communicate vocally, but just having a cat around wouldn't be enough. Besides, this was James... the man who, with his memory, went on dangerous, risky missions, and went on fishing trips and snorkeling and generally filling his days with activities without. He couldn't... wouldn't, and shouldn't be left home alone. Not when he was still recovering and somewhat depressed like this... 

Deep down, Q was just afraid he was going to come home one day, and the man wouldn't be there with his warm smile, gentle arms, and striking blue eyes anymore.

"I should've thought this out better," he murmured to himself under his breath, looking down at his still healing hands, staring at the singular scar running down the side of his two broken fingers. "How about you come to work with me?" he perked up, saying the suggestion louder this time. "They have the training facility that you can use? And an indoor shooting range, too?"

He pricked up a little, interest showing in his eyes. "That's... a good idea..." because it had been the activity and the doing of things that had jogged his memory more than anything else... but then, he paused.

"I don't want people to think I'm weak..."

Q was happy when James said it was a good idea, but he paused too at what came following next. "You are not weak, James," he said slowly, enunciating every word. "And people would not think that." He would personally wipe anyone's credentials should they even so much as insinuate such a ludicrous thing. 

His hand reached out to caress James's cheek. "Please remember that you're barely recovering from a long and deep coma," he said, trying to implore the man to see reason here.

James turned his head and pressed his mouth into the palm of his hand as he tried to find the willpower to be... enthusiastic? He wasn't sure that was the right word, but he nodded. "I'll come..."

With a soft sigh, Q laid his head down into James's lap. "Then I can stop by from time to time, or you can come up to my office. Or we can have lunch outside... And I can maybe go home early..." He wasn't sure about the last part, but it was still better than nothing, he supposed.

His fingers moved to his hair and carded through on instinct. "You have work to do... I'm sure I can keep myself occupied…”

"I know..." Q said quietly, leaning into James's carding fingers, much like something his own cat would do. He burrowed close into the gentle warmth. "I have work, and you can look after yourself... but that doesn't stop me from wanting to be near you."

"I'll come in... it might help get my memory working..." He winced at the sharp pain in his skull.

Q perked up immediately. "Are you okay?" he whispered urgently, both hands gently cradling James's head. He bit his lips, looking over his lover in concern. "I was thinking..." he began slowly. "Maybe we should go back to Medical for them to check on you again?" He was worried that while it might just look, felt, and seemed like acute migraines, there was another underlying problem. "Then maybe they could prescribe you more effective medicines?"

"No," he said quietly, shaking his head as he rubbed at it, although it never helped. "Not a chance."

"But what if... what if there were complications, James?" he asked quietly. "Just a quick checkup, love, so we can be sure. I will oversee it." He was back to his Quartermaster post now, and he had every authorization to do so. "And then we can go home... They won't keep you if it's not necessary."

"I said no!" James snarled, and pushed William away, standing up in a fit of irrational fury.

Q was entirely startled by the outburst, unceremoniously falling back into the sofa, eyes wide as he watched James propel from his seat to his feet. "James," he whispered, standing up as well, reaching to place a placating hand on the man's forearm. "I know you hate Medical," which was an understatement, "but this may help you, James."

He threw back his head and he laughed... he sounded insane. He didn't look much better. "Help me? Come on, Q, we both know that I'm far beyond help," and he was moving across the room to grab his jacket.

No... Q thought to himself, Venice flashing like a warning before his mind, accompanied by the chills down the spine that James's laughter cause. "James, please..." he breathed, hurrying after the man and slipping his thin, feeble arms around the man from behind, holding on to him desperately... because he knew he wouldn't be able to keep James if the man had truly decided to leave. "You're not beyond help. Please." His toes curled, grip tightening. "You just need to let us, let me, help, James. You don't have to bear this alone."

He shrugged away, the motion gentle when it could have been vicious. "Back off, William. You cannot help me." The warning was in his words.

"I cannot help you?" he repeated, a hint of disbelief. "Or you won't allow me to help you?" He bit his lip before swallowing and looked up, fixing his glasses. "What happened to us trying at you not needing to be strong all the time?" And he rounded over James, standing between the man and the door.

James stared at him and the emotions fled his face. "Move..." he breathed.

Q stared back at him squarely, his face morphing into the calm mask of the Quartermaster. "You haven't answered my questions."

"You cannot help me," he replied just as calm. "Step aside from the door, Q," he said quietly.

Q. That was his code name, yes. And James himself as called it countless of times, but now... now it had a different ring to it that made his stomach coil. But his expression remained neutral nonetheless, before pressing his back against the hardwood. "You won't let me help you," he repeated again. "And what? What if I don't step aside from the door? You're going to manhandle me personally now that you don't need Alec to do it for you anymore?"

He stepped forward and caught Q's wrist, twisting it up and out the way as he physically hauled Q out the way if the door.

Q hissed, the vice of the man's grip was tight, but instead of allowing himself to be pulled away so easily, he used his other hand to grab hold of James himself for leverage and momentum before inserting his thin frame back into the shortened space between James and the door with a sharp jerk.

James stared at him for a long time. "I am not adverse to going through the window, you know. "

"This is a loft apartment, James," he reminded the man quietly. "And I am not adverse to going through the window after you... though I think both of us know how that will end."

"You need to let me go and calm down..." he growled.

"Right, because last time you didn't go and drink yourself to oblivion," Q almost spat back. He was vicious, worried, and pained, and many other things. Mostly angry. But he didn't know whom he was angrier at, James (for shoving him away) or him (for letting it come down to James shoving him away).

"Fine," he snapped, shaking just a little with the turmoil of emotions that was breaking through to the surface. "Go. You do what you want. I can hardly stop you anyway; you don't even allow me the decency to help you." He stepped away from the door, shoving himself flat against the wall, arms crossed, jaws clenched. But one thing he didn't do, was to look away. Instead, he kept a keen eye on James. "Dinner at seven. Don't be late."

He left, storming out into the pouring rain, and James ran. He ran through the streets, working off the stress until he ran out of steam and had to stop, breathing hard...

He returned half an hour before, hot and dripping and covered in sweat.


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner was cooking on the stove, and considering the rain, Q had expected the sight of James when the man came back in. His gaze softened and with a sigh, he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and reached for the towel he had prepared, coming over to tenderly drape it over the man's soaked body, covering his head. 

"Come on," he whispered, taking James's hand, the skin frighteningly under his touch. "Let's get you into the shower." 

"Join me," he pressed against Q, dripping wet, and a lot calmer.

Q shivered, feeling the droplets of rain seeping rapidly through his shirt and clinging to his skin, but he held tightly onto James's arms nonetheless. "Sure," came his quiet reply, and he led them both into the bathroom. 

Once inside, he turned and began quickly and efficiently removing James's wet clothes from his person, throwing them into the nearby basket. He started with the jacket, the shirt, the belt and trousers, before kneeling down for the socks, peeling it gently and silently from those feet.

James leant forwards and pressed his mouth to Q's. It was a chaste kiss, a lingering touch... it broke slowly. "I'm sorry for losing it..." His fingers came up to his cheek.

Q leaned into those touches, holding on with a shuddered breath, and shook his head. "It's okay..." he whispered. "I—... I know it bothers you... but I just want to make sure you're okay, is all."

"I'm no worse the I was when I woke up on a bed in Bali," he said quietly.

Q peered into those disarming blue eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. Bali... Even Bali seemed like a lifetime ago. "At least, back then, except for the nightmares, you seemed... contented with how you were living your life."

He nodded. "It was a good life if you didn't know who you were," he replied.

Q sighed and nodded, regretting not his decision in revealing to James the truth about who he was (never this) but the hassle-free life, disregarding Nine Eyes's surveillance and everything, that he once had. At least then, he enjoyed doing what he did. 

Quietly, he tugged off his sweater and undid his jeans as well, flinging them into the same pile of James's soaked, soiled clothing. "Let's get you warm," he whispered, turning the tap on hot.

James pulled him against him under the shower, and just held him. Drawing comfort from that familiar strength, a form that he knew so well.

Q sighed, for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, and wrapped his arms around James, leaning his forehead against the man's shoulder, hand stroking up and down his back. For a long while, neither of them spoke. What was there to say? 

Until, eventually, Q squeezed his eyes shut and asked, "If I can't help you then what else can I do?" softly, quietly.

James didn't answer for almost a minute, before tilting his head up and he breathed three soft words. "Just love me," James said quietly, shivering from so much more than the cold, as blue eyes were swallowed up by green.

Q shivered himself as he gazed and fell into James's blue chips, pursing his lips and tightening his hold around his lover, eyelashes fluttering. And he managed a tender smile, reaching up to cup the man's cheek. "But of course," he breathed back. "I excel at it, as it is my most essential job, remember?" He was reusing James's own words.

James returned the smile with a soft one of his own, his eyes closing as he let his forehead rest against his.

Q allowed his hand to come up to card through James's hair, gentle and calming. "Still coming with me tomorrow?"

He nodded. "Medical too... if you really think it's for the best..."

Q paused fractionally. "I won't force you," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I only want to see if they can... prescribe you something for your headaches..." Ones that normal medication and manual rubbing wouldn't actually ease. Of course he could come in and ask for it himself, he knew all the symptoms, after all, but they were exactly just that: symptoms—he didn't know how painful it could get; he didn't know all the places that hurt.

He sighed and nodded. "I'll do it," he said quietly.

Q's arms tightened, his fingers digging softly into James's back. "Thank you... I'll be there for the check up, I promise."

He nodded. "Good. I'm likely to kill anyone who approaches without clear signals. Sterile rooms have always been hard... lately..." he shivered.

"I know, love," Q soothed. "I know... I won't let them go near you without a cause. Never."

James tilted William’s head up and kissed him softly, fingers brushing down his neck lightly.

The light touches made him shiver, and the kiss pulled a sigh from his nostrils. Loving James... he could only hope he was doing it right; he could only hope he was giving the man what he needed, not just what he wanted. "Love you," he whispered, the sounds washed away from the sprays of hot water cascading down on them from above.

"Love you too," he said as he took the man's hand and brought it to his chest, over his pounding heart... and smiled. "What's for dinner?"

Q splayed his fingers over James's heart, pressing in to feel the thrumming of blood and thumping of heart: very much alive. And he returned the smile in kind. "Stew," he answered. "Considering the weather and you had only had your jacket on, I thought something hot would suffice."

"I went running," he said quietly. "I just needed some freedom..."

Q flinched a little at that, suddenly reminded of the image of a caged bird, never knowing what it felt like to stretch its wings and fly after being held in captivity for too long... until, of course, it died. 

He knew he couldn't keep James like this forever. The man was a man of action, of adventures and adrenaline... and living here with this sort of banal and mundane lifestyle... it would never be enough.

"Freedom," Q repeated. "How do I give you more freedom, James?" he asked softly, feeling like the cage that always had its door shut close to keep the beautiful bird from escaping its empty insides. "How do I make this more comfortable for you?" Was he finally asking the right questions? Hopefully so.

James sighed and ran fingers lightly through his hair. "Husband mine," he said, using the nickname that he had given James when they were traveling through Europe. He touched, fingers skimming lightly. "Just... don't stand in the doorway? If I need to get air, then I will go for a run or something to calm down. "

Q shivered at the nickname. "How do you expect me not to... with your sudden outburst and shoving me off of you?" he whispered the last part. "You were angry, and I... I don't want you to somehow... hurt yourself inadvertently." 

James froze and looked at him, his eyes narrowed and his face worried. “Is that… did I seem like I wanted to?” he asked softly. “That… that wasn’t my intentions… I didn’t mean to worry you, baby…” he said and held him close. “I just needed to… move. I can’t sit around all day, even in Bali, I was active.”

"Of course you didn't mean or want to do that, James," Q sighed. "But I... I knew you were angry and frustrated... and I just... I didn't want you to somehow hurt yourself...I'm sorry." He shook his head. "I know that my lifestyle now offers not much flexibility or choice of activity for you..." 

It was exactly the reason why he had told James, since what truly must have been eons ago, he hadn't had any commitment to break when the man kissed him for the first time. There was only so many hours in the day, and seemingly not enough time for him to both work and have a relationship. 

He swallowed, smoothing his hands along James's shoulders. "I was actually planning on asking you if you'd like to go out cycling with me." He smiled a little. "Before the rain came, of course, but we should definitely do that sometime. It might be fun."

"Cycling..." he smiled at that. "That might be fun... road cycling or mountain biking..." he kissed his lips lightly. "We could take a picnic on the latter..." 

Q nodded. "Or just plain trekking." He'd make time, he thought to himself. He'd put in effort to make this work. "We'd have fun. I promise," he whispered quietly. The only thing left the made him wonder still was what James planned on doing next... but he wouldn't be asking that now. Later... It was too early for any of those decisions just yet. 

He nosed his hair with obvious affection and smiled tiredly. "Come on... shall we have this supper?" he asked quietly. 

"Let's," Q agreed, pressing a kiss to James's collarbone and turning off the shower head. He stepped carefully out for the towels, wrapped one around his waist, and another over James's head, gently rubbing the excessive water out.

"You really do get pleasure trying to look after me, don't you?" he asked softly.

This got him smiling softly. "Of course." His thumbs slipped in to brush water from James's ears, trailing down his neck, then tentatively along the rest of the man's body. He'd do anything he could with the knowledge that James would do the same for him, given half a chance. "Come on. Bathrobe first, and I'll get us clothes to wear."

He shivered with obvious delight and stepped out, drying himself off vigorously. "No... I’ll get the clothes. You sit down and relax, love... let me do something for you..."

The positive response that somehow garnered left Q chuckling as he shrugged on a bathrobe himself and watched as James disappeared upstairs quickly, barely before he had even gotten a reply out of his lips. He went over to the pot still simmering away on low over at the stove, opened the lid, and sighed when the aroma of a decent stew wafted out along with the transparent veil of white steam. Giving the pot a good stir, he began taking out the bowls for them.

James came down with an odd assortment of clothes. It had quickly come to their attention that the marvelous 007 was not house trained and they had many a long talk about things like washing up your mug and putting the washing machine on. "I'm assuming you would want pyjamas..." he said thoughtfully.

Q turned to regard James and his odd bundle of clothes before feeling a fond, wide smile cracking on his lips as he approached the thoughtful man. "Pyjamas would be great, love. Thank you." He chuckled softly, took the articles of clothing, and shamelessly (playfully) shed the bathrobe with a coy expression, before putting on his fresh set of pyjamas and bending down to pick the fallen robe from the floor. "Dinner is ready. Just give me a sec to put this into the laundry."

James cooked his head to the side, watching him, before scowling. "See, that's not fair," he complained. "I'm going to have the mental image of your naked body stuck with me all evening until I carry you off to bed."

Q grinned cheekily. "That's desired effect, love," he purred upon coming back to the man. "What are you going to do about it?" He slipped his arms around James's neck and smiled.

"I am going to make you wait while I eat my dinner," James replied as he pulled his sweatpants on. "Then once I have eaten my fill, then I think I might drag you to bed."

Q's smile turn coquettish as he leaned on his toes and peck James on the lips. "Great plan." He seemed entirely unperturbed by this as he spun on his heel. "Let's eat."

James prowled after him, his grin playful as he carried the bowls through to the front room so they curled together. 

Q plucked two spoons and followed James, both hands on the man's shoulders, before they both settled down, curled up on the sofa. It was the perfect weather for this sort of thing. "How's the stew?" he asked quietly, picking at the pieces of potato and carrot.

"Delicious," he replied with a purr, as he pushed his legs through Williams. 

Q hummed. "James Bond complimenting my cooking," he chuckled in fond amusement, gently rubbing his legs against James's. "How utterly flattering."

"I can't even make toast," he replied with a wry chuckle. "I am not good with domestic things..."

"Oh, but you have good taste," Q didn't miss a beat, giving James a wink, before continuing gently: "Anything else can be learnt as we go along."

"Of course I have good taste," Bond all but growled. "I chose you. "

In all honesty, Q hadn't seen it coming, not at all, and flushed bright red, the heat creeping up from the nape of his neck at those gruff words. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses for a bit, chewing a little on his lip. "Good. I know you'd realize it sooner or later," he said, feigning a dry, nonchalant tone.

James pressed his mouth to his, delighted with the response that he got and then settled down.

Q huffed a soft laugh and gladly accepted the kiss. They finished dinner at a leisured pace. It was all good and well, and they eased back into the night time routine they had somehow established in the last few days as though nothing had happened that afternoon with James telling Q to get away from the door, and Q saying that he'd jump out the window with the man were he to actually do it.

He asked James to put the freshly washed clothes in the dryer for him as he loaded the dishes up for a wash. 

James put them in the dryer and wiped down and the whole thing was very domestic and rather comforting, and soon James and William were relaxed together, comfortable and happy.

William snuggled up to James, smiling faintly at the man and breathing in the sheer comfort this provided, everything seeming almost surreal for a moment after a month long of running across Indonesia then Europe, and another spent in the hospital. Twist hopped up and curled in James’s lap lazily, her fluffy tail flexing in an indolent manner. 

And he supposed this was as good an end as any to the last free Sunday before his impending official return to work.

"You okay?" James asked quietly as he trailed fingers through the fur of the cat, eyes closed as he listened to the rain outside.

"Why wouldn't I be?" William whispered back, looking up at James, watching as Twist purred under James's gentle stroking. He would like to join in, of course, but experience told him she didn't like being petted by two people at the same time for some reason, and so refrained.

"Because you’re back to being Q, head of Q branch tomorrow... I know you have been worried about it for a while..."

Ah... caught. William thought to himself with a small smile. After all the time they spent nearly inseparable to one another, the man had grown to know him too well. "I managed it once, I'm sure I can somehow manage it again, James," he reassured softly, as though not knowing he was no longer the same person that had left the post over a year ago, leaning in against the man. "I won't let your confidence down."

"I worry about you, " he said quietly. "But I'll be in the building. Alec is going to put me through my paces, so he says."

"I'll be just fine, James," William replied just as quiet, fingers tracing invisible patterns along the man's torso. "No need to worry about me... Enjoy your time with Alec," he chuckled softly at that. 

"I am sure I will..." he said quietly. "But I will enjoy seeing you too. .."

"I promised I'd drop by as often as I could, didn't I?" Q hummed softly. "As long as you two don't jump around too much, you'll be seeing me, love." Even if they did, he'd still track them down anyway.

"I have no idea what we will be doing..." he said softly. "I'm... concerned..."

"Should I clarify that for you first thing in the morning?" Q asked back, his lips tracings the edge of James's skin, the heat radiating from it lingered on their curves. "We should call him really early just to disrupt his sleep," the joke slipped past his jaws, but he didn't really mean it, to be honest, "he has just gotten back from India."

James smiled at that. "That's not why I'm concerned, but I like your idea. Let's do it."

Q chuckled. "If you're sure about it," he said, "because you'll be the one to take the full brunt of his tantrum, not me." And yes, he was calling it a temper tantrum, like that of children. 

Sobering up quickly afterward, he was quiet for a moment before continuing: "Why are you concerned then?"

James didn't speak for a few long moments. Then he said slowly, as if carefully choosing the words, "What if I am broken beyond repair?" He whispered.

His gaze was gentle and tender as Q regarded James, before shifting just so he could place his two hands on either side of the man's head, the pads of his fingertips stroking across skin and hair in gentle motions. "I don't think you are... You're still fighting, after all," he whispered, a small smile unfurling on his lips. "And no matter what, I will love you no less than I already do, James... That is a fact." 

Q leaned in and pressed a kiss between James's brows.

James shivered at the third eyes kiss and exhaled, pulling Q so that he was straddling his lap. His hands went to his hips, stroking gently.

Q held onto James, wrapping his arms around the man's wider frame as though he could try and absorb the tremors for him, and nuzzled his neck with a soft sigh himself. Distantly, he wondered if James believed his words or not, but that didn't really matter much right then, to be honest, as long as they were both here in each other's embrace, as long as James still caressed him the way he was doing right then... It was okay. They'd make it work.

"Make love to me," James said softly, caressing his cheek. His eyes were vacant... sad, almost. "Make me forget everything but you..."

Eyelashes fluttering like the thumping of his heart, Q gazed at James, a sigh tumbling from his lips, and leaned in to capture those lips that had spoken both harsh and affectionate words to him, careless only in certain moments, but loving all around. And in the sad vacancy of those blue eyes, which had once burnt with sheer brilliance that shook him to the core, Q shivered, helpless in the knowledge that there might really not much else that he could do for James after all. 

"I love you," he whispered desperately between caresses and kisses.

James curled into him, meeting every motion of his mouth with his own. His arms wrapped around him and he, whimpering, lifted William up and carried him slowly to the bedroom.

William wrapped his legs around James's waist, clutching and clinging on. The throb that nestled in the cavity of his chest pulsed as he shuddered and pressed his lips to the man's neck—seeking for warmth, for life, for them, for any way he could help—kissing a trail that led to nowhere. His world was small, narrowed, limited, and now, there was this man, and he didn't know what to do... When there was nothing more than survival existing as the primary concern, it was much easier to run blindly into the gray mass of future as they could live then, and die the next moment. 

But now, shoved back inside this box that was certainly not made for James, William didn't know how to make room for the man so that he wouldn't feel suffocated between these confining walls. 

"You can't help me."

He whimpered when James set him down on the soft mattress, the dim light spilling shadows across those familiar features, and he wordlessly kissed James again.

James broke the kiss with a gasp and pressed his finger lightly to William’s lips. "Shhh... No words," he whispered and stroked his hair lightly, falling over him. His arms caged William between him and the bed.

And James devoured him. Slow. Sweet. Word by word, touch by wondrous touch, James shed William’s clothes, kissing every patch of exposed skin with reverence bordering on obsession. 

The heat on the tips of that finger seeped into his lips tingled in its silent promise, and William nodded urgently. He himself didn't know what else he could say in this moment anymore as he leaned into the soft strokes in his hair, looking back up at James with something that was almost akin to awe tinging his irises, as dark pupils dilated in his eyes. The oppressing space between those arms didn't seem to yield any sense of privacy or personal self left; it should have scared him, but he seemed to no longer mind.

Slowly, tenderly, James peeled him open, the icy blue chips suffocating and searing, and he shivered whilst being swallowed by them whole, not in the slicing cold that had never been there, but in the blazing flames of passion that he could feel trickling inside his veins. His breaths turned ragged, spluttering of air that escaped his lungs in short, fractured puffs; his skin sang the wordless song that James was tuning it to; and his body moved in as much awkward coordination as he could. 

He could taste the words stuck under his tongue, rolling like restless pebbles, but he didn't let them out... because of the promise, and because he wasn't sure what sort of sound they would make upon escape anymore. 

And a faint smile curved William's mouth. That in itself no longer mattered.

When nothing between them was left, James pulled William into his arms. Slick fingers pushed inside him, teasing and stretching slightly... his fingers spreading. Nothingg left was between them.

William hooked his legs behind James, contributing into the effort of bringing them closer together as well, and the burn of those fingers fired bursts of pleasure up along his nerves. He gasped and whined, arms wrapping around his lover, as he sensually rolled his hips to meet with those careful grazes.

"I love you..." James whispered as he opened him with careful touches.

William shivered in the words, but instead of answering them, his hand trailed along James's spine as his finger began to tap: I love you, too, husband mine, just as he kissed his lover with a smile.

James smiled at that, at the shared memory of one of their most intense moments, where speech was lost to them both. "Mine..." he hissed with a possessive snarl.

Ah... he breathed. William hadn't been kidding when he said he'd jump, too, should James fall. Some would call it ridiculous, that they hadn't known each long enough for this. But fuck people, really, fuck MI6... they didn't know, and they would never know—he wouldn't allow anyone else to see this man behind the cold, meaningless code name either. 

And this time, he replied, "Yours," breathless and aching, biting into the juncture of James's neck.

Bond arched, the pain reaching though and flooding his system with endorphins... his eyes closed, positioning himself... and he slid inside slowly, kissing what he could reach, as if he could kiss away scars.

William's soft hisses turned moans, his legs pressing down into James's either side with all the jerking motions of his muscles, his back curving an arch, as he relaxed himself and let the man in, the fire in the pit of his stomach coiled. James's lips were all over any places that they could, and while he couldn't kiss scars away, he could kiss happiness into William's bloodstream and make him think not too much about them, if at all, anymore. 

And God, his fingers slipped into that golden hair, lips pressing to James's temple, he wished he could do the same thing, too.

James tilted him back and carefully onto the bed, wrapping around him and then thrusting into him, deep and swift in one fluid motion.

"Mine..." he said again, the fever in his body coiling around. One hand reached up and pinned William’s wrists.

William cried out softly, the familiar girth of James's erection grazing tight against his walls and making his muscles jerk. He could feel coarse pubic hair tickling gently against his skin; the force, the vigor, and feverish pitch of it all were beautiful. 

"Yours... always," he rasped in reply, whimpering, letting his wrists be pinned down easily without qualms.

James swore under his breath and rolled his hips. "Mine..." he panted. "Always..." His mouth grazed his jaw and down the side of his neck, sucking a bruise, a small claim.

"Yes, James," William mewled breathlessly and spread his thighs farther apart to receive and take in more of James. Everything was already too far gone and too heated for him to think much of anything past the man on top of him right then. He arched, shivering terribly, tilting his head to the side, and gave a soft gasp when James delivered a particularly sharp suck into his exposed flesh. "Yours, always."

James moved over him, holding him, guiding William’s arms around his body, telling him to hold on. He moved with slow movements, rolling his hips, in the slow desire to drive him mad. 

And William did, he wrapped his arms around James's strong back and held on, his nails digging in in surging desperation and building pleasure, leaving half moons on the man's skin. The slow, gradual pace was driving him toward the tipping edge, and he whimpered almost pathetically, pushing his hips down to meet with James's every thrust.

He gulped in a great inhale of air like a drowning man, body shuddering nearly nonstop with sensory overload. His chest heaved, hands moving up so his fingers could weave once more into James's hair, still careful with the touch so it wouldn't actually hurt.

"James..." He called out the name, the syllables fractured, shaky, and drawn out, punctuated by his labored breathing. "God, James."

“Come for me, love…” James whispered, as he lifted William’s leg up over his hip, so his thrusts could nudge that deep spot. “Keep your eyes open… I need to see…”

It didn't take long for William to come after that with a cry and no stimulation to his swelling arousal whatsoever. His body seized, clenching up, and arched one last time off the bed before falling down once more. 

James was there, holding him to his body, watching with parted lips as William fell apart in his arms, spectacular in his pleasure. James pushed into him, hard, over and over and over, driving him into oblivion, and then he fell over that edge too, and cried out, rolling into him until he shuddered.

William’s body was humming in hypersensitivity, twitching in spastic tremors, as he held on to James, utilizing the last remaining cells of his brain that hadn't been rendered senseless with euphoria and endorphins to cooperate and help bring his lover over to the edge as well, where he was waiting with his welcoming arms wide open... figuratively, of course. And William gasped the moment he felt James pulse inside of him, hot climax filling him up in long, satisfying spurts. 

He moaned and held James's trembling frame, their rising and falling chests touching in ragged breathing, sharing the same space of hot warm air. His fingers carded through the man's short hair, pressing tender kisses into James's shoulder.

James looked down at him, and his eyes were glassy with emotion, and more than a little tiredness. He hurt... He hurt so badly and he was so tired of it. His breath came in a shuddering gasp... and he pressed his face into William's neck, blinking slowly. 

William caught the turmoil behind those liquid eyes and felt his throat clench up. He shivered just a little when James's face came pressing into his neck, the heated breaths brushing and tingling over his skin. His hands never stopped their stroking motions. "You're here, James," he whispered into his lover's ear. "You're here with me... and we'll get through this together."

He nodded, sucking in a slow deep breath. He didn't pull away, just pressed himself into the neck, into the warmth and love that it held. 

William didn't make him, nor did he want James to move away, the emotions in his chest fluttering too wildly right then. And in that moment, they were both each other's anchor. 

Most probably had always been so for a long time already.

Curled up, half on top of him, James eventually fell into a comfortable silence. 

William sighed and pursed his lips, swallowing thickly and reaching for the tissue box on the nightstand to gently and quietly wipe away his cooling release, lest it get sticky in the morning. That done, he nuzzled James's neck and curled up into the arms of the man as well, closing his eyes. "Love you," he whispered, willing sleep.

James didn't respond, he was already deeply asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> And we are back with the next part of Shatter Me! As LauraRose had said, this story has grown into something more than we expect, and has become sort of an obsession in and of itself. We take great pleasure in writing this, and we hope that our readers will enjoy it, too!
> 
> Here we go again, everyone! Let's enjoy this ride together :D We look forward to receiving your feedback!
> 
> —azure7539


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